It fell about the Martinmas tyde, When our Border steeds get corn a… The captain of Bewcastle hath bou… And he’s ower to Tividale to driv… The first ae guide that they met w…

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…

Homer, thy song men liken to the s… With all the notes of music in its… With tides that wash the dim domin… Of Hades, and light waves that la… Around the isles enchanted; nay, t…

Still sing the mocking fairies, as… Beneath the shade of thorn and hol… The west wind breathes upon them,… And wolves still dread Diana roam… In secret woodland with her compan…

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 wail of Moschus on the mounta… The Muses heard, and loved it lon… They heard the hollows of the hill… They heard the weeping water’s ove… They winged the sacred strain—the…

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…

There is a Heaven, or here, or th… A Heaven there is, for me and you… Where bargains meet for purses spa… Like ours, are not so far and few. Thuanus’ bees go humming through

She has just “put her gown on” at… She is learned in Latin and Greek… But lawn tennis she plays with a s… That the prudish remark with a shr… In her accents, perhaps, she is we…

Between the moonlight and the fire In winter twilights long ago, What ghosts we raised for your des… To make your merry blood run slow! How old, how grave, how wise we gr…

O Alison Gross, that lives in yon… The ugliest witch in the north cou… She trysted me ae day up till her… And mony fair speeches she made to… She straik’d my head, and she kaim…

Your hair and chin are like the ha… And chin Burne-Jones’s ladies wea… You were unfashionably fair In '83; And sad you were when girls are ga…

In the Morning of Time, when his… How bleak, how un-Greek, was the… From his wigwam, if ever he ventur… There was nobody waiting to welcom… For the Man had been made, but th…

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,

It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and caul… Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,— ‘We maun draw to a hald. ’And whatna hald shall we draw to,