#ScottishWriters
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
What gars ye sing sae, birdie, As gien ye war lord o’ the lift? On breid ye’re an unco sma’ lairdi… But in hicht ye’ve a kingly gift! A’ ye hae to coont yersel rich in
O Lord, if on the wind, at cool o… I heard one whispered word of migh… If through the darkness, as in bed… But once had come a hand upon my f… If but one sign that might not be…
Brother artist, help me; come! Artists are a maimed band: I have words but not a hand; Thou hast hands though thou art du… Had I thine, when words did fail–
I cannot praise thee. By his inst… The master sits, and moves nor foo… For see the organ-pipes this, that… Leaning, o’erthrown, like wheat-st… I well could praise thee for a flo…
‘I do beseech thee, God, show me… ‘Come up to me in Sinai on the mo… Thou shall behold as much as may b… And on a rock stood Moses, lone i… From Sinai’s top, the vaporous, t…
Methought that in a solemn church… Its marble acres, worn with knees… Lay spread from door to door, from… Midway the form hung high upon the… Of him who gave his life to be our…
When the snow is on the earth Birds and waters cease their mirth… When the sunlight is prevailing Even the night-winds drop their wa… On the earth when deep snows lie
From off the earth the vapours cur… Went up to meet their joy; The boy awoke, and all the world Was waiting for the boy! The sky, the water, the wide earth
For years eighteen she, patient so… Her eyes had graveward sent; Her earthly life was lapt in dole, She was so bowed and bent. What words! To her? Who can be ne…
Job XIV. 13-15. RONDEL. Would that thou hid me in the grav… And kept me with death’s gaoler-ca… Until thy wrath away should wear
Great-hearted child, thy very bein… The Son, Who know’st the hearts of all us p… For who is prodigal but he who has… Far from the true to heart it with…
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,
First came the red-eyed sun as I… He smote me on the temples and I… Casting the night aside and all it… And I would spurn my idleness, an… My own wild journey even like him,…
Oft, as I rest in quiet peace, am… Thrust out at sudden doors, and ma… Through desert solitudes, and thun… Black passages which have not any… The scourge is on me now, with all…
