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

Foul fa’ the breast first treason… That Liddesdale may safely say: For in it there was baith meat and… And corn unto our geldings gay. We were stout-hearted men and true…

Not Jason nor Medea wise, I crave to see, nor win much lore, Nor list to Orpheus’ minstrelsies… Nor Her’cles would I see, that o’… The wide world roamed from shore t…

AS one that for a weary space has… Lull’d by the song of Circe and h… In gardens near the pale of Prose… Where that Aeaean isle forgets th… And only the low lutes of love com…

AH! leave the smoke, the wealth,… Of London, leave the bustling str… For still, by the Sicilian shore, The murmur of the Muse is sweet. Still, still, the suns of summer g…

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet Sate a’ day on a hill; Whan night was cum, and sun was se… They had not talkt their fill. Lord Thomas said a word in jest,

‘What bluid’s that on thy coat lap… Son Davie! Son Davie! What bluid’s that on thy coat lap? And the truth come tell to me, O.… ‘It is the bluid of my great hawk,

Friend, when you bear a care-dulle… And brow perplexed with things of… And fain would bid some charm unti… The bonds that hold you all too st… Behold a solace to your fate,

HE sat among the woods; he heard The sylvan merriment; he saw The pranks of butterfly and bird, The humors of the ape, the daw. And in the lion or the frog,—

My heart’s an old Spinet with str… To laughter chiefly tuned, but som… That Fate has practised hard on,… They answer not whoever sings. The ghosts of half-forgotten thing…

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow lo… An’ a cow low down in yon glen; Lang, lang will my young son greet… Or his mither bid him come ben. I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow lo…

Some speak of lords, some speak of… And sic like men of high degree; Of a gentleman I sing a sang, Some time call’d Laird of Gilnock… The king he writes a loving letter…

The winter is upon us, not the sno… The hills are etched on the horizo… The skies are iron grey, a bitter… The meagre cloudlets shudder to an… One yellow leaf the listless wind…

‘Why does your brand sae drop wi’… Edward, Edward? Why does your brand sae drop wi’ b… And why sae sad gang ye, O?’ ‘O I hae killed my hawk sae gude,

Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane… Wi ribbons in her hair; The king thought mair o Marie Ham… Than ony that were there. Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane…