#ScottishWriters
Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! don’t you wish that you were m… You have seen the scarlet trees
I knew a silver head was bright be… I knew a queen of toil with a crow… Garland of valour and sorrow, of b… Life, that honours the brave, crow… The beauties of youth are frail, b…
A picture-frame for you to fill, A paltry setting for your face, A thing that has no worth until You lend it something of your grac… I send (unhappy I that sing
For the long nights you lay awake And watched for my unworthy sake: For your most comfortable hand That led me through the uneven lan… For all the story—books you read:
LONG TIME I LAY IN LIT… LONG time I lay in little ease Where, placed by the Turanian, Marseilles, the many—masted, sees The blue Mediterranean.
Then the bright lamp is carried in… The sunless hours again begin; O’er all without, in field and lan… The haunted night returns again. Now we behold the embers flee
THE wind blew shrill and smart, And the wind awoke my heart Again to go a—sailing o’er the sea… To hear the cordage moan And the straining timbers groan,
THEY tell me, lady, that to—day On that unknown Australian strand… Some time ago, so far away— Another lady joined the band. She joined the company of those
I am a kind of farthing dip, Unfriendly to the nose and eyes; A blue-behinded ape, I skip Upon the trees of Paradise. At mankind’s feast, I take my pla…
The moon has a face like the clock… She shines on thieves on the garde… On streets and fields and harbour… And birdies asleep in the forks of… The squalling cat and the squeakin…
AS in their flight the birds of s… Halt here and there in sweet and s… But halt not overlong; The time one rural song to sing They pause; then following bounteo…
I have a hoard of treasure in my b… The grange of memory steams agains… Full of my bygone lifetime’s garne… Old pleasures crowned with sorrow… Old sorrow grown a joy, old penanc…
Tall as a guardsman, pale as the e… Who strides in strange apparel on… Rails for his breakfast? routs his… (Like boys escaped from school) wi… Kind and unkind, his Maker’s fina…
LOUD and low in the chimney The squalls suspire; Then like an answer dwindles And glows the fire, And the chamber reddens and darken…
MOTLEY I count the only wear That suits, in this mixed world, t… Who boldly smile upon despair And shake their bells in Grandam… Singers should sing with such a go…