The graver by Apollo’s shrine, Before the Gods had fled, would s… A shell or onyx in his hand, To copy there the face divine, Till earnest touches, line by line…

False Sir John a wooing came To a maid of beauty fair; May Colven was this lady’s name, Her father’s only heir. He wood her butt, he wood her ben,

Willie has ta’en him o’er the faem… He’s wooed a wife, and brought her… He’s wooed her for her yellow hair… But his mother wrought her meikle… And meikle dolour gar’d her dree,

The soft wind from the south land… He set his strength to blow, From forests where Adonis bled, And lily flowers a-row: He crossed the straits like stream…

The dust of Carthage and the dust Of Babel on the desert wold, The loves of Corinth, and the lus… Orchomenos increased with gold; The town of Jason, over-bold,

Swift as sound of music fled When no more the organ sighs, Sped as all old days are sped, So your lips, love, and your eyes, So your gentle-voiced replies

I have scribbled in verse and in p… I have painted “arrangements in gr… And my name is familiar to those Who take in the high class magazin… I compose; I’ve invented machines…

The gypsies came to our good lord’… And wow but they sang sweetly! They sang sae sweet and sae very c… That down came the fair lady. And she came tripping doun the sta…

Now the light of the sun, in the n… Shines, and their city is girt wit… And deep is the shade of the woods… Sings of the sea, and is sweet fro… Green is their garden and orchard,…

He lived in a cave by the seas, He lived upon oysters and foes, But his list of forbidden degrees, An extensive morality shows; Geological evidence goes

Late at e’en, drinking the wine, And ere they paid the lawing, They set a combat them between, To fight it in the dawing. ‘Oh, stay at hame, my noble lord,

There lived a king in southern lan… King Edward hight his name; Unwordily he wore the crown, Till fifty years were gane. He had a sister’s son o’s ain,

When these Old Plays were new, th… Beside the Cardinal’s chair, Applauded, 'mid the courtly ring, The verses of Moliere; Point-lace was then the only wear,

There liv’d twa sisters in a bower… Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch. There liv’d twa sisters in a bower… Stirling for aye: The youngest o’ them, O, she was…

Villanelle, why art thou mute? Hath the singer ceased to sing? Hath the Master lost his lute? Many a pipe and scrannel flute On the breeze their discords fling…