#ScottishWriters
Little one, you must not fret That I take your clothes away; Better sleep you so will get, And at morning wake more gay– Saith the children’s mother.
I think I might be weary of this… That comes inevitably every year, The same when I was young and str… The same when I am old and growin… I should grow weary of it every ye…
Summer is come again. The sun is… And the soft wind is breathing. A… Is sparkling in thine eyes, and in… My soul is shining. Come; our day… Shall be to revel in unlikely thin…
Babe Jesus lay in Mary’s lap, The sun shone in his hair; And this was how she saw, mayhap, The crown already there. For she sang: ‘Sleep on, my littl…
Forth from the city, with the load That makes the trampling low, They walk along the dreary road That dust and ashes go. The other way, toward the gate
With wandering eyes and aimless ze… She hither, thither, goes; Her speech, her motions, all revea… A mind without repose. She climbs the hills, she haunts t…
AND do not fear to hope. Can poe… More than the Father’s heart rich… Each time we smell the autumn’s dy… We know the primrose time will com… Not more we hope, nor less would s…
The veil hath lifted and hath fall… Who next it stood before us, first… We see not; but between the cherub… The light burns clearer: come-a th… Lord, for thy prophet’s calm comma…
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,
The infant lies in blessed ease Upon his mother’s breast; No storm, no dark, the baby sees Invade his heaven of rest. He nothing knows of change or deat…
Though in my heart no Christmas g… Though my song-bird be dumb, Jesus, it is enough for me That thou art come. What though the loved be scattered…
Are the leaves falling round about The churchyard on the hill? Is the glow of autumn going out? Is that the winter chill? And yet through winter’s noise, no…
There was a girl that lost things– Nor only from her hand; She lost, indeed-why, most things, As if they had been sand! She said, 'But I must use them,
And weep not, though the Beautifu… Within thy heart, as daily in thin… Thy heart must have its autumn, it… Leading, mayhap, to winter’s dim d… Yet doubt not. Beauty doth not pa…
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.
