#English
Foremost of all on battle’s fiery… Here VERTUE fell, and here he s… A fairer name no Roman ever gave To stand sole monument on Valour’…
Do ye ken hoo to fush for the salm… If ye’ll listen I’ll tell ye. Dinna trust to the books and their… They’re but trying to sell ye. Leave professors to read their ain…
The Squire sat propped in a pillo… His eyes were alive and clear of c… But well he knew that the hour was… To bid good-bye to his ancient hom… He looked on garden, wood, and hil…
I sat by the granite pillar, and s… Where the sunlight fell of old, And the hour was the hour my heart… And the sermon rolled and rolled As it used to roll when the place…
(After Martial) To-day, my friend is seventy-five; He tells his tale with no regret; His brave old eyes are steadfast y… His heart the .lightest heart aliv…
O Saint whose thousand shrines ou… And our eyes loved thy lamp’s eter… Dim earthly radiance of the Unkno… Hope of the darkness, light of the… Far off, far off and faint, O gli…
Lad, and can you rest now, There beneath your hill! Your hands are on your breast now, But is your heart so still? ’Twas the right death to die, lad,
‘Hark ye, hark to the winding horn… Sluggards, awake, and front the mo… Hark ye, hark to the winding horn; The sun’s on meadow and mill. Follow me, hearts that love the ch…
Sitting at times over a hearth tha… With dull domestic glow, My thought, leaving the book, grat… To you who planned it so. Not of the great only you deigned…
(After Horace) Let others praise, as fancy wills, Berlin beneath her trees, Or Rome upon her seven hills, Or Venice by her seas;
She is a lady fair and wise, Her heart her counsel keeps, And well she knows of time that fl… And tide that onward sweeps; But still she sits with restless e…
With failing feet and shoulders bo… Beneath the weight of happier days… He lagged among the heedless crowd… Or crept along suburban ways. But still through all his heart wa…
In The Time Of War And Tumults O Lord Almighty, Thou whose hand… Despair and victory give; In whom, though tyrants tread thei… The souls of nations live;
O Son of mine, when dusk shall fi… Between a gravestone and a cradle’… Between the love whose name is los… And the young love whose thoughts… Thou too shalt groan at heart that…
(Old French) Memories long in music sleeping, No more sleeping, No more dumb; Delicate phantoms softly creeping