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.

Ave! Once more touch the strings That Memory may feed upon the str… And over-live again The days, When the heart gloried in the gold…

Cold my heart, and poor, and low, Like thy stable in the rock; Do not let it orphan go, It is of thy parent stock! Come thou in, and it will grow

I waited for the Master In the darkness dumb; Light came fast and faster– My light did not come! I waited all the daylight,

In the air why such a ringing? On the earth why such a droning? In the air the lark is singing; On the earth the wind is moaning. ‘I am blest, in sunlight swinging!…

A broken tale of endless things, Take, lady: thou art not of those Who in what vale a fountain spring… Would have its journey close. Countless beginnings, fair first p…

I envy the tree-tops that shake so… In winds that fill them full of he… I envy every little cloud that sha… With unseen angels evening in the… I envy most the youngest stars tha…

A clock aeonian, steady and tall, With its back to creation’s flamin… Stands at the foot of a dim, wide… Swing, swang, its pendulum goes, Swing-swang-here-there!

Lie down upon the ground, thou hop… Press thy face in the grass, and d… Dost feel the green globe whirl?… Climbeth she out of darkness to th… Which is her God; seven times she…

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,

It is May, and the moon leans dow… Over a blossomy land; Leans from her window a lady white… With her cheek upon her hand. ‘Oh, why in the blue so misty, moo…

And must I ever wake, gray dawn,… Thee standing sadly by me like a g… I am perplexed with thee that thou… This earth another turning! All a… Thou shouldst have reached me, wit…

With joyful pride her heart is hig… Her humble house doth hold The man her nation’s prophecy Long ages hath foretold! Poor, is he? Yes, and lowly born:

There cam a man to oor toon-en’, And a waesome carl was he, Snipie-nebbit, and crookit-mou’d, And gleyt o’ a blinterin ee. Muckle he spied, and muckle he spa…

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…