‘Traveller, what lies over the hil… Traveller, tell to me: Tip-toe-high on the window-sill Over I cannot see.’ ‘My child, a valley green lies the…

I cannot write old verses here, Dead things a thousand years away, When all the life of the young yea… Is in the summer day. The roses make the world so sweet,

Content Primroses, With hearts at rest in your thick… Peeping as from his mother’s lap t… Who courts shy shelter from his ow… Hanging Harebell,

I dinna ken what’s come ower me! There’s a how whaur ance was a her… I never luik oot afore me, An’ a cry winna gar me stert; There’s naething nae mair to come…

The Year Of The Trouble In Lanc… The skies are pale, the trees are… The earth is dull and old; The frost is glittering as if The very sun were cold.

We bore him through the golden lan… One early harvest morn; The corn stood ripe on either hand… He knew all about the corn. How shall the harvest gathered be

Men sought, ambition’s thirst to s… The lost elixir old Whose magic touch should instant m… The meaner metals gold. A nobler alchymy is thine

The hinges are so rusty The door is fixed and fast; The windows are so dusty The sun looks in aghast: Knock out the glass, I pray,

The monk was praying in his cell, With bowed head praying sore; He had been praying on his knees For two long hours and more. As of themselves, all suddenly,

‘Rejoice,’ said the Sun; ‘I will… With glory and gladness and holida… I am dumb, O man, and I need thy… But man would not rejoice. ‘Rejoice in thyself,’ said he, ‘O…

In the ancient house of ages, See, they cannot rest! With a hope, which awe assuages, Tremble all the blest. For the son and heir eternal,

His face, his words, her heart awo… Awoke her slumbering truth; She judged him well; her bonds she… And fled to him for ruth. With tears she washed his weary fe…

And should the twilight darken int… And sorrow grow to anguish, be tho… Thou art in God, and nothing can… Which a fresh life-pulse cannot se… That thou dost know the darkness,…

When I look back upon my life nig… Nigh spent, although the stream as… I more of follies than of sins rep… Less for offence than Love’s shor… With self, O Father, leave me not…