I have long enough been working do… Working spade and pick, boring-chi… I long for wider spaces, airy, cle… Successless labour never the love… More profit surely lies in a holy,…

The fact which suggested this poem… Blue sky above, blue sea below, Far off, the old Nile’s mouth, ’Twas a blue world, wherein did bl… A soft wind from the south.

O lassie ayont the hill, Come ower the tap o’ the hill, Come ower the tap wi’ the breeze o… Bidena ayont the hill! I’m needin ye sair the nicht,

The veil hath lifted and hath fall… Who next it stood before us, first… We see not; but between the cherub… The light burns clearer: come-a th… Lord, for thy prophet’s calm comma…

First, most, to thee, my son, I g… In which a friend’s and brother’s… With mine; for not son only-brothe… Art thou, through sonship which no… Between the eyes that in each othe…

O Father, I am in the dark, My soul is heavy-bowed: I send my prayer up like a lark, Up through my vapoury shroud, To find thee,

As I was walkin on the strand, I spied ane auld man sit On ane auld black rock; and aye th… Cam washin up its fit. His lips they gaed as gien they wa…

Filled with his words of truth and… Her heart will break or cry: A woman’s cry bursts forth in migh… Of loving agony. ‘Blessed the womb, thee, Lord, th…

When round the earth the Father’s… Have gently drawn the dark; Sent off the sun to fresher lands, And curtained in the lark; ’Tis sweet, all tired with glowing…

On the far horizon there Heaps of cloudy darkness rest; Though the wind is in the air There is stupor east and west. For the sky no change is making,

One do I see and twelve; but seco… Methinks I know thee, thou belove… Not from thy nobler port, for ther… More quiet-featured: some there ar… Their message on their brows, whil…

Hears’t thou the dash of water, lo… With its perpetual tidings upward… Struggling against the wind? Oh,… For not in vain from its portentou… Thy heart, wild stream, hath yearn…

Little one, you must not fret That I take your clothes away; Better sleep you so will get, And at morning wake more gay– Saith the children’s mother.

’Tis we, not in thine arms, who we… The children in thy bosom laugh an…

The stars are spinning their threa… And the clouds are the dust that f… And the suns are weaving them up For the day when the sleepers aris… The ocean in music rolls,