#Scots
He came to the desert of London t… Gray miles long; He wandered up and he wandered dow… Singing a quiet song. He came to the desert of London t…
THE CHURCH stands there beyond… How yearningly I gaze upon its sp… Lifted mysterious through the twil… Dissolving in the sunset’s golden… Or dim as slender incense morn by…
A near the dying of that royal day Those amber-vested hills began to… And soon a lofty Pharos, gleaming… Upon its isle set darkly in the li… Beckoned us onward to the spacious…
Waking one morning In a pleasant land, By a river flowing Over golden sand:— Whence flow ye, waters,
Eastwards through busy streets I… Jostled by anxious crowds, who, he… Were so absorbed in dreams of Mam… That they could spare no time to l… The sunset’s gold and crimson fire…
This field of stones, he said, May well call forth a sigh; Beneath them lie the dead, On them the living lie.
LOVE’S DAWN Still thine eyes haunt me; in the… The dreamtime, the hushed stillnes… I see them shining pure and earnes… And here, all lonely, may I not a…
As we rush, as we rush in the Tra… The trees and the houses go wheeli… But the starry heavens above the p… Come flying on our track. All the beautiful stars of the sky…
‘Ceste insignefable et tragicque c… The sun was down, and twilight gre… Filled half the air; but in the ro… Whose curtain had been drawn all d… The twilight was a dusky gloom:
Sleepless himself to give to other… He giveth His beloved sleep. I HEARD the sounding of the mid… The others one by one had left the… In calm assurance that the graciou…
For I must sing of all I feel and… Waiting with Memnon passive near… Until the heavenly light doth dawn… And thrill my silence into mystic… From unknown realms the wind strea…
SHE was so good, and he was so ba… A very pretty time they had! A pretty time, and it lasted long: Which of the two was more in the w… He befouled in the slough of sin;
LAST evening’s huge lax clouds o… Grew dark and louring, burthened w… Which that long wind monotonous al… Swept clashing loud through Dream… Until my spirit in fatigue’s despi…
WHEN one is forty years and seve… Is seven and forty sad years old, He looks not onward for his Heave… The future is too blank and cold, Its pale flowers smell of graveyar…
Once in a saintly passion I cried with desperate grief, “O Lord, my heart is black with g… Of sinners I am chief.” Then stooped my guardian angel