A glory on the chamber wall! A glory in the brain! Triumphant floods of glory fall On heath, and wold, and plain. Earth lieth still in hopeless blis…

From Schiller ‘Which of you, knight or squire, w… Plunge into yonder gulf? A golden beaker I fling in it-the… The black mouth swallows it like a…

The homely words how often read! How seldom fully known! ‘Which father of you, asked for br… Would give his son a stone?’ How oft has bitter tear been shed,

Rich is the fancy which can double… All seeming forms, and from cold i… Build up high glittering palaces w… Summer perfection, moulding all th… To spirit symmetry, and doth not l…

Heavily slumbered noonday bright Upon the lone field, glory-dight, A burnished grassy sea: The child, in gorgeous golden hour… Through heaven-descended starry fl…

The sun is gone down And the moon’s in the sky But the sun will come up And the moon be laid by. The flower is asleep.

If thou hadst been a sculptor, wha… Of forms divine had thenceforth fi… Methinks I see thee, glorious wor… Striking a marble window through b… Thy face’s reflex on the coming fa…

WE are a shadow and a shining, we… One moment nothing seems but what… Nor aught to rule but common circu… Nought is to seek but praise, to s… A moment more, and God is all in…

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…

Lawrence, what though the world be… And twilight cool thy potent day i… The sun, beneath the round earth s… All the night through, sleepless a… Oh, be thy spirit faithful as the…

Uplifted is the stone And all mankind arisen! We are thy very own, We are no more in prison! What bitterest grief can stay

Out of thy door I run to do the t… That calls upon me. Straight the… Whoops from mine ears the sounds o… About their work, ‘My God, my fat… I turn in haste to see thy blessed…

The miser lay on his lonely bed; Life’s candle was burning dim. His heart in an iron chest was hid Under heaps of gold and an iron li… And whether it were alive or dead

There was John Gordon an’ Archib… An’ a yerl’s twin sons war they; Quhan they war are an’ twenty year… They fell oot on their ae birthday… ‘Turn ye, John Gordon, nae brithe…

I dreamed of a song-I heard it su… In the ear of my soul its strange… What were its words I could not t… Only the voice I heard right well… For its tones unearthly my spirit…