#ScottishWriters
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…
Heaven and the sea attend the dyin… And in their sadness overflow and… Faint gold, and windy blue, and gr… Far out amid them my pale soul I… For, as they mingle, so mix life a…
Imagination cannot rise above thee… Near and afar I see thee, and I l… My misery away from me I thrust i… For thy perfection I behold, and…
Quiet, quiet dead, Have ye aught to say From your hidden bed In the earthy clay? Fathers, children, mothers,
I stood in an ancient garden With high red walls around; Over them grey and green lichens In shadowy arabesque wound. The topmost climbing blossoms
There breathes not a breath of the… But the spirit of love is moving t… Not a trembling leaf on the shadow… Flutters with hundreds in harmony, But that spirit can part its tone…
O lassie ayont the hill, Come ower the tap o’ the hill, Come ower the tap wi’ the breeze o… Bidena ayont the hill! I’m needin ye sair the nicht,
O wind of God, that blowest in th… Blow, blow and wake the gentle spr… Blow, swifter blow, a strong warm… Till all the flowers with eyes com… Blow till the fruit hangs red on e…
Win’ that blaws the simmer plaid Ower the hie hill’s shoothers laid… Green wi’ gerse, an’ reid wi’ heat… Welcome wi’ yer sowl-like weather! Mony a win’ there has been sent
‘If I sit in the dust For lauding good wine, Ha, ha! it is just: So sits the vine!’ Abu Midjan sang as he sat in chai…
How shall he sing who hath no song… He laugh who hath no mirth? Will cannot wake the sleeping song… Yea, Love itself in vain may long To sing with them that have a song…
I have a fellowship with every sha… Of changing nature: with the tempe… My soul goes forth to claim her ea… Of living princedom; and her wings… Amidst the wildest uproar undismay…
I dreamed of a song-I heard it su… In the ear of my soul its strange… What were its words I could not t… Only the voice I heard right well… For its tones unearthly my spirit…
Out of thy door I run to do the t… That calls upon me. Straight the… Whoops from mine ears the sounds o… About their work, ‘My God, my fat… I turn in haste to see thy blessed…
What life it is, and how that all… With outward maker’s force, or lik… Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia To L.P.M.D.
