Cold my heart, and poor, and low, Like thy stable in the rock; Do not let it orphan go, It is of thy parent stock! Come thou in, and it will grow

The Man says: Laverock i’ the lift, Hae ye nae sang-thrift, ‘At ye scatter ’t sae heigh, and l… Wasterfu laverock!

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…

Strait is the path? He means we m… Yes; but the strait path leads int…

Enough he labours for his hire; Yea, nought can pay his pain; But powers that wear and waste and… Need help to toil again. They give him freely all they can,

Rose o’ my hert, Open yer leaves to the lampin mune… Into the curls lat her keek an’ de… She’ll tak the colour but gie ye t… Buik o’ my brain,

I pray you, all ye men who put you… In moulds and systems and well-tac… Holding that Nature lives from ye… In one continual round because she… Set me not down, I pray you, in t…

Oh, melancholy fragment of the nig… Drawing thy lazy web against the s… Thou shouldst have waited till the… With kindred glooms to build thy f… Sublime amid the ruins of the ligh…

A clock aeonian, steady and tall, With its back to creation’s flamin… Stands at the foot of a dim, wide… Swing, swang, its pendulum goes, Swing-swang-here-there!

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…

Along the tops of all the yellow t… The golden-yellow trees, the sunsh… And where the leaves are gone, lon… Lone depths of thicket with their… And through the woods, all waste o…

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…

In the air why such a ringing? On the earth why such a droning? In the air the lark is singing; On the earth the wind is moaning. ‘I am blest, in sunlight swinging!…

My Lily snatches not my gift; Glad is she to be fed, But to her mouth she will not lift The piece of broken bread, Till on my lips, unerring, swift,

The stars are steady abune; I’ the water they flichter and fle… But, steady aye, luikin doon They ken theirsels i’ the sea. A’ licht, and clear, and free,