Ah, listen through the music, from… The 'melancholy long-withdrawing r… Beneath the Minster, and the wind… The wide North Ocean, marshalling… Even so forlorn—in worlds beyond o…

Here be the fairest homes the land… The silvery-cliffed Colonus; alwa… The nightingale doth haunt and sin… For well the deep green gardens do… Groves of the God, where winds ma…

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…

Down Deeside cam Inveraye Whistlin’ and playing, An’ called loud at Brackley gate Ere the day dawning— ‘Come, Gordon of Brackley.

Some speak of lords, some speak of… And sic like men of high degree; Of a gentleman I sing a sang, Some time call’d Laird of Gilnock… The king he writes a loving letter…

When Lent and Responsions are end… When May with fritillaries waits, When the flower of the chestnut is… When drags are at all of the gates (Those drags the philosopher 'slat…

“The Ancestor remote of Man,” Says Darwin, “is th’ Ascidian,” A scanty sort of water-beast That, ninety million years at leas… Before Gorillas came to be,

Still sing the mocking fairies, as… Beneath the shade of thorn and hol… The west wind breathes upon them,… And wolves still dread Diana roam… In secret woodland with her compan…

Lord Bateman was a noble lord, A noble lord of high degree; He shipped himself all aboard of a… Some foreign country for to see. He sailed east, he sailed west,

The wail of Moschus on the mounta… The Muses heard, and loved it lon… They heard the hollows of the hill… They heard the weeping water’s ove… They winged the sacred strain—the…

I scribbled on a fly-book’s leaves Among the shining salmon-flies; A song for summer-time that grieve… I scribbled on a fly-book’s leaves… Between grey sea and golden sheave…

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch, Doun by the hill of Banochie, Allangst the lands of Garioch. Grit pitie was to heir and se The noys and dulesum hermonie,

The modish Airs, The Tansey Brew, The SWAINS and FAIRS In curtained Pew; Nymphs KNELLER drew,

She has just “put her gown on” at… She is learned in Latin and Greek… But lawn tennis she plays with a s… That the prudish remark with a shr… In her accents, perhaps, she is we…

‘What bluid’s that on thy coat lap… Son Davie! Son Davie! What bluid’s that on thy coat lap? And the truth come tell to me, O.… ‘It is the bluid of my great hawk,