#Scots #XIXCentury #XXCentury #BalladesYRhymes
DEAD, with their eyes to the foe… Dead, with the foe at their feet; Under the sky laid low Truly their slumber is sweet, Though the wind from the Camp of…
Of all Gods Death alone Disdaineth sacrifice: No man hath found or shown The gift that Death would prize. In vain are songs or sighs,
In twilight of the longest day I lingered over Lucian, Till ere the dawn a dreamy way My spirit found, untrod of man, Between the green sky and the grey…
It fell on a day, and a bonnie sum… When the corn grew green and yello… That there fell out a great disput… Between Argyle and Airly. The Duke o’ Montrose has written…
The ferox rins in rough Loch Awe, A weary cry frae ony toun; The Spey, that loups o’er linn an… They praise a’ ither streams aboon… They boast their braes o’ bonny D…
Of all the maids of fair Scotland… The fairest was Marjorie; And young Benjie was her ae true… And a dear true love was he. And wow but they were lovers dear,
Far in the Past I peer, and see A Child upon the Nursery floor, A Child with books upon his knee, Who asks, like Oliver, for more! The number of his years is IV,
The level sands and grey, Stretch leagues and leagues away, Down to the border line of sky and… A spark of sunset burns, The grey tide-water turns,
There are laddies will drive ye a… To the burn frae the farthermost t… But ye mauna think driving is a’, Ye may heel her, and send her ajee… Ye may land in the sand or the sea…
In the Aves of Aristophanes, the Bird Chorus declare that they are older than the Gods, and greater benefactors of men. This idea recurs in almost all savage mythologies, and I have ma...
St. Andrews by the Northern sea, A haunted town it is to me! A little city, worn and grey, The grey North Ocean girds it rou… And o’er the rocks, and up the bay…
Villanelle, why art thou mute? Hath the singer ceased to sing? Hath the Master lost his lute? Many a pipe and scrannel flute On the breeze their discords fling…
When these Old Plays were new, th… Beside the Cardinal’s chair, Applauded, 'mid the courtly ring, The verses of Moliere; Point-lace was then the only wear,
“‘Dead and gone,’—a sorry burden o… Say, fair maids, maying In gardens green, In deep dells straying, What end hath been
“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,