#Scots
‘What maks ye sae canty, granny de… Has some kin’ body been for ye to… Ye luik as smilin an’ fain an’ wil… As gien ye had fun a bonny shillin… ‘Ye think I luik canty, my bonny…
A quiet heart, submissive, meek, Father, do thou bestow, Which more than granted, will not… To have, or give, or know. Each little hill then holds its gi…
I would I were an angel strong, An angel of the sun, hasting along… I would I were just come awake, A child outbursting from night’s d… Or lark whose inward, upward fate
One do I see and twelve; but seco… Methinks I know thee, thou belove… Not from thy nobler port, for ther… More quiet-featured: some there ar… Their message on their brows, whil…
‘Murmuring, ’twixt a murmur and mo… Many a tune in a single tone, For every ear with a secret true– The sea-shell wants to whisper to… ‘Yes-I hear it-far and faint,
Uplifted is the stone And all mankind arisen! We are thy very own, We are no more in prison! What bitterest grief can stay
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…
I lay and dreamed. The master cam… In his old woven dress; I stood in joy, and yet in shame, Oppressed with earthliness. He stretched his arms, and gently…
Grief held me silent in my seat; I neither moved nor smiled: Joy held her silent at my feet, My shining lily-child. She raised her face and looked in…
‘My life is drear; walking I labo… The heart in me is heavy as a ston… And of my sorrows this the icy cor… Life is so wide, and I am all alo… Thou did’st walk so, with heaven-b…
A pale green sky is gleaming; The steely stars are few; The moorland pond is steaming A mist of gray and blue. Along the pathway lonely
Dark stranger on the teeming map o… Fabric, that seem’st a thing ali… From aught that nature or that art… To me a mystery thou ever art; And awe and wonder stir me when th…
’Tis the midnight hour; I heard The Abbey-bell give out the word. Seldom is the lamp-ray shed On some dwarfed foot-farer’s head In the deep and narrow street
The sun is gone down And the moon’s in the sky But the sun will come up And the moon be laid by. The flower is asleep.
I follow, tottering, in the funera… That bears my body to the welcomin… As those I mourn not, that entomb… But smile as those that lay aside… To me it is a thing of poor disdai…