Fair islands of the silver fleece, Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold… Whose havens are the haunts of Pe… Whose boys are in our quarrel bold… OUR bolt is shot, our tale is tol…

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,

As, to the pipe, with rhythmic fee… In windings of some old-world danc… The smiling couples cross and meet… Join hands, and then in line advan… So, to these fair old tunes of Fr…

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 liv’d twa sisters in a bower… Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. There liv’d twa sisters in a bower… Stirling for aye: The youngest o’ them, O, she was…

In torrid heats of late July, In March, beneath the bitter bise… He book-hunts while the loungers f… He book-hunts, though December fr… In breeches baggy at the knees,

The modish Airs, The Tansey Brew, The SWAINS and FAIRS In curtained Pew; Nymphs KNELLER drew,

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch, Doun by the hill of Banochie, Allangst the lands of Garioch. Grit pitie was to heir and se The noys and dulesum hermonie,

Thine eyes are like the sea, my de… The wand’ring waters, green and gr… Thine eyes are wonderful and clear… And deep, and deadly, even as they… The spirit of the changeful sea

Now the bright crocus flames, and… The slim narcissus takes the rain, And, straying o’er the mountain’s… The daffodilies bud again. The thousand blossoms wax and wane

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…

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?

We built a castle in the air, In summer weather, you and I, The wind and sun were in your hair… Gold hair against a sapphire sky: When Autumn came, with leaves tha…

Four-and-twenty bonny boys Were playing at the ba, And by it came him sweet Sir Hugh… And he playd o’er them a’. He kickd the ba with his right foo…

Down Deeside cam Inveraye Whistlin’ and playing, An’ called loud at Brackley gate Ere the day dawning— ‘Come, Gordon of Brackley.