#Scots
IF I have faltered more or less In my great task of happiness; If I have moved among my race And shown no glorious morning face… If beams from happy human eyes
COME, my little children, here a… Some are short and some are long,… You must learn to sing them very s… Very true to time and tune and ple… Mark the note that rises, mark the…
As the single pang of the blow, wh… Rings and lives and resounds in al… So the thunder above spoke with a… So in the heart of the mountain th… Sudden the thunder was drowned —qu…
The gardener does not love to talk… He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the ke… Away behind the currant row
FEAR not, dear friend, but freel… Though lesser lives should suffer.… A lesser life, that what is his of… Gladly would give for you, and wha… Step, without trouble, down the su…
Go, little book, and wish to all Flowers in the garden, meat in the… A bin of wine, a spice of wit, A house with lawns enclosing it, A living river by the door,
The year runs through her phases;… Springtime and summer pass; winter… But one pale season rules the hous… Cold falls the imprisoned daylight… By each lean pallet squats, and pa…
I DO not fear to own me kin To the glad clods in which spring… Or to my brothers, the great trees… That speak with pleasant voices in… Loud talkers with the winds that p…
We travelled in the print of olden… Yet all the land was green, And love we found, and peace, Where fire and war had been. They pass and smile, the children…
From the bonny bells of heather They brewed a drink long—syne, Was sweeter far than honey, Was stronger far than wine. They brewed it and they drank it,
MY love was warm; for that I cros… The mountains and the sea, Nor counted that endeavour lost That gave my love to me. If that indeed were love at all,
Down by a shining water well I found a very little dell, No higher than my head. The heather and the gorse about In summer bloom were coming out,
Give to me the life I love, Let the lave go by me, Give the jolly heaven above And the byway nigh me. Bed in the bush with stars to see,
LO, now, my guest, if aught amiss… Forgive it and dismiss it from you… For me, for you, for all, to close… Pass now the ev’ning sponge across… And to that spirit of forgiveness…
The world is so full of a number o… I’m sure we should all be as happy…
