#ScottishWriters
Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers hi… Though closer still the blinds we…
WITH caws and chirrupings, the w… In this thin sun rejoice. The Psalm seems but the little ki… That sings with its own voice. The cloud—rifts share their amber…
Birds all the summer day Flutter and quarrel Here in the arbour—like Tent of the laurel. Here in the fork
SINCE years ago for evermore My cedar ship I drew to shore; And to the road and riverbed And the green, nodding reeds, I s… Mine ignorant and last farewell:
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle—light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see
Blows the wind to-day, and the sun… Blows the wind on the moors to-day… Where about the graves of the mart… My heart remembers how! Grey recumbent tombs of the dead i…
Three of us afloat in the meadow b… Three of us abroad in the basket o… Winds are in the air, they are blo… And waves are on the meadow like t… Where shall we adventure, to—day t…
IN the highlands, in the country… Where the old plain men have rosy… And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and…
COME, my little children, here a… Some are short and some are long,… You must learn to sing them very s… Very true to time and tune and ple… Mark the note that rises, mark the…
All the names I know from nurse: Gardener’s garters, Shepherd’s pu… Bachelor’s buttons, Lady’s smock, And the Lady Hollyhock. Fairy places, fairy things,
Son of my woman’s body, you go, to… To taste the colour of love and th… From out of the dainty the rude, t… Eternally through the ages from th… The ten fingers and toes, and the…
I DREAMED of forest alleys fai… And fields of gray—flowered grass, Where by the yellow summer moon My Jenny seemed to pass. I dreamed the yellow summer moon,
Summer fading, winter comes— Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story—books. Water now is turned to stone
Of a’ the ills that flesh can fear… The loss o’ frien’s, the lack o’ g… A yowlin’ tyke, a glandered mear, A lassie’s nonsense - There’s just ae thing I cannae be…
The morning drum-call on my eager… Thrills unforgotten yet; the morni… Lies yet undried along my field of… But now I pause at whiles in what… And count the bell, and tremble le…