#BalladesYRhymes #ScottishWriters
Alas, for us no second spring, Like mallows in the garden-bed, For these the grave has lost his s… Alas, for us no second spring, Who sleep without awakening,
(Sidero, the stepmother of Tyro,… At fierce Sidero’s word the thral… And shore the locks of Tyro,—like… They fell in golden harvest,—but f… The maiden shuddered in her pain a…
When strawberry pottles are common… Ere elms be black, or limes be ser… When midnight dances are murdering… Then comes in the sweet o’ the yea… And far from Fleet Street, far fr…
The dust of Carthage and the dust Of Babel on the desert wold, The loves of Corinth, and the lus… Orchomenos increased with gold; The town of Jason, over-bold,
“It is told of the last Lovers wh… forest, before men brought the tid… they beheld no Fairies, nor Dwarf… Venus herself, who bade them ‘make… for’ said she, ‘I shall live no mo…
Returning from what other seas Dost thou renew thy murmuring, Weak Tide, and hast thou aught of… To tell, the shores where float an… My love, my hope, my memories?
A pleasant land is Scribie, where The light comes mostly from below, And seems a sort of symbol rare Of things at large, and how they g… In rooms where doors are everywher…
When captaines couragious, whom de… Did march to the siege of the citt… They mustred their souldiers by tw… And the formost in battle was Mar… When [the] brave sergeant-major wa…
“The Ancestor remote of Man,” Says Darwin, “is th’ Ascidian,” A scanty sort of water-beast That, ninety million years at leas… Before Gorillas came to be,
Willie has ta’en him o’er the faem… He’s wooed a wife, and brought her… He’s wooed her for her yellow hair… But his mother wrought her meikle… And meikle dolour gar’d her dree,
Nay, be you pardoner or cheat, Or cogger keen, or mumper shy, You’ll burn your fingers at the fe… And howl like other folks that fry… All evil folks that love a lie!
There’s a joy without canker or ca… There’s a pleasure eternally new, ’Tis to gloat on the glaze and the… Of china that’s ancient and blue; Unchipp’d all the centuries throug…
I went to the mill, but the miller… I sat me down, and cried ochone! To think on the days that are past… Of Dickie Macphalion that’s slain… Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,
False Sir John a wooing came To a maid of beauty fair; May Colven was this lady’s name, Her father’s only heir. He wood her butt, he wood her ben,
‘Rise up, rise up now, Lord Dougl… ‘And put on your armour so bright; Let it never be said that a daught… Was married to a lord under night. ’Rise up, rise up, my seven bold s…