#ScottishWriters
Suggested by a drawing of Thomas… . This must be the very night! The moon knows it!-and the trees! They stand straight upright,
I TO myself have neither power no… Patience nor love, nor anything ri… My soul is a poor land, plenteous… Here blades of grass, there a smal… A nothing that would be something…
‘Death, whaur do ye bide, auld De… ‘I bide in ilka breath,’ Quo’ Death; ‘No i’ the pyramids, No whaur the wormie rids
Uplifted is the stone And all mankind arisen! We are thy very own, We are no more in prison! What bitterest grief can stay
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…
Her mother, Elfie older grown, One evening, for adieu, Said, 'You’ll not mind being left… For God takes care of you!’ In child-way her heart’s eye did s…
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…
Mary, to thee the heart was given For infant hand to hold, And clasp thus, an eternal heaven, The great earth in its fold. He seized the world with tender mi…
Little Bo-Peep, she has lost her… And will not know where to find th… They are over the height and out o… Trailing their tails behind them! Little Bo-Peep woke out of her sl…
Every time would have its song If the heart were right, Seeing Love all tender-strong Fills the day and night. Weary drop the hands of Prayer
Here is a temple strangely wrought… Within it I can see Two spirits of a diverse thought Contend for mastery. One is an angel fair and bright,
There may be seeming calm above, b… There is a pulse below which cease… A subterranean working, fiery hot, Deep in the million-hearted bosom,… Earthquakes unlock not the prodigi…
I have only one foot, but thousand… My one foot stands well, but never… I’ve a good many arms, if you coun… But hundreds of fingers, large and… From the ends of my fingers my bea…
‘WHO is this little one lying,’ Said Time, ‘at my garden-gate, Moaning and sobbing and crying, Out in the cold so late?’ ‘They lurked until we came near,
Star high, Baby low: ‘Twixt the two Wise men go; Find the baby,