So in the village inn the poet dwe… His honey-dew was gone; only the p… His cousin’s work, her empty labou… But still he sniffed it, still a f… And lingered all about the broider…

Golden dream of summer morn, By a well-remembered stream In the land where I was born, Golden dream! Ripples, by the glancing beam

Till the tread of marching feet Through the quiet grass-grown stre… Of the little town shall come, Soldier, rest awhile at home. While the banners idly hang,

I had a plant which would not thri… Although I watered it with care, I could not save the blossoms fair… Nor even keep the leaves alive. I strove till it was vain to striv…

Ah yes, we know what you’re saying… As your eye glances over these No… ‘What asses are these that are bra… With flat and unmusical throats? Who writes such unspeakable patter…

Hurrah for the Science Club! Join it, ye fourth year men; Join it, thou smooth-cheeked scrub… Whose years scarce number ten Join it, divines most grave;

I know the garden-close of sin, The cloying fruits, the noxious fl… I long have roamed the walks and b… Desiring what no man shall win: A secret place to shelter in,

The lady stood at the station bar, (Three currants in a bun) And oh she was proud, as ladies ar… (And the bun was baked a week ago.… For a weekly wage she was standing…

Not the proudest damsel here Looks so well as doth my dear. All the borrowed light of dress Outshining not her loveliness, A loveliness not born of art,

Mourn that which will not come aga… The joy, the strength of early yea… Bow down thy head, and let thy tea… Water the grave where hope lies sl… For tears are like a summer rain,

The sun shines fair on Tweedside,… Your heart is full of pleasure, yo… Your cheeks are like the morning,… Or morning and her dew-drops are l… Because you are a princess, a prin…

As through the street at eve we we… (It might be half-past ten), We fell out, my friend and I, About the cube of x+y, And made it up again.

Short space shall be hereafter Ere April brings the hour Of weeping and of laughter, Of sunshine and of shower, Of groaning and of gladness,

The truest Liberal is he Who sees the man in each degree, Who merit in a churl can prize, And baseness in an earl despise, Yet censures baseness in a churl,

Oh for the nights when we used to… In the firelight’s glow or flicker… With the gas turned low and our pi… And the air fast growing thicker; When you, enthroned in the big arm…