#ScottishWriters
AND do not fear to hope. Can poe… More than the Father’s heart rich… Each time we smell the autumn’s dy… We know the primrose time will com… Not more we hope, nor less would s…
Lord Jesus, Oh, ease us Of Self that oppresses, Annoys and distresses Body and brain
I know not what among the grass th… Thy nature, nor thy substance, fai… Nor what to other eyes thou hast o… To send thine image through them t… But when I push the frosty leaves…
She sitteth at the Master’s feet In motionless employ; Her ears, her heart, her soul comp… Drinks in the tide of joy. Ah! who but she the glory knows
Said the boy as he read, ‘I too w… I will fight for the truth and its… He went to the playground, and soo… A very cowardly story! Said the girl as she read, ‘That…
When I am dead unto myself, and l… O Father, thee live on in me, Contented to do nought but pay my… And leave the house to thee, Then shall I be thy ransomed-from…
Forth to his study the sculptor go… In a mood of lofty mirth: ‘Now shall the tongues of my carpi… Confess what my art is worth! In my brain last night the vision…
Love, the baby, Crept abroad to pluck a flower: One said, Yes, sir; one said, May… One said, Wait the hour. Love, the boy,
The infant lies in blessed ease Upon his mother’s breast; No storm, no dark, the baby sees Invade his heaven of rest. He nothing knows of change or deat…
Forth from the city, with the load That makes the trampling low, They walk along the dreary road That dust and ashes go. The other way, toward the gate
Still am I haunting Thy door with my prayers; Still they are panting Up thy steep stairs! Wouldst thou not rather
Greitna, father, that I’m gauin, For fu’ well ye ken the gaet; I’ the winter, corn ye’re sawin, I’ the hairst again ye hae’t. I’m gauin hame to see my mither;
A Part Of The Story Omitted In… How sir Galahad despaired of find… Through the wood the sunny day Glimmered sweetly glad; Through the wood his weary way
She comes! again she comes, the br… Under a ragged cloud I found her… Clasping her own dark orb like hop… That ragged cloud hath waited her… And he hath found and he will hide…
Grief held me silent in my seat; I neither moved nor smiled: Joy held her silent at my feet, My shining lily-child. She raised her face and looked in…