O CHIEF director of the growing… Of Rome the glory and of Rome the… Me, O Quintilian, may you not for… Before from labour I make haste t… Some burn to gather wealth, lay ha…

My house, I say. But hark to the… That make my roof the arena of the… That gyre about the gable all day… And fill the chimneys with their m… Our house, they say; and mine, the…

I KNOW not how, but as I count The beads of former years, Old laughter catches in my throat With the very feel of tears.

Frae nirly, nippin’, Eas’lan’ bre… Frae Norlan’ snaw, an’ haar o’ se… Weel happit in your gairden trees, A bonny bit, Atween the muckle Pentland’s knee…

Let Beauty awake in the morn from… Beauty awake from rest! Let Beauty awake For Beauty’s sake In the hour when the birds awake i…

I read, dear friend, in your dear… Your life’s tale told with perfect… The river of your life, I trace Up the sun-chequered, devious bed To the far-distant fountain-head.

WHAT man may learn, what man may… Of right or wrong of false or true… While, skipper—like, his course he… Through nine and twenty mingled ye… Half misconceived and half forgot,

YOU remember, I suppose, How the August sun arose, And how his face Woke to trill and carolette All the cages that were set

Farewell, fair day and fading ligh… The clay-born here, with westward… Marks the huge sun now downward so… Farewell. We twain shall meet no… Farewell. I watch with bursting…

I, WHOM Apollo sometime visited… Or feigned to visit, now, my day b… Do slumber wholly; nor shall know… The weariness of changes; nor perc… Immeasurable sands of centuries

Resign the rhapsody, the dream, To men of larger reach; Be ours the quest of a plain theme… The piety of speech. As monkish scribes from morning br…

I know not how it is with you — I love the first and last, The whole field of the present vie… The whole flow of the past. One tittle of the things that are,

OH, I wad like to ken—to the begg… Why chops are guid to brander and… An’ siller, that ’s sae braw to ke… It ’s gey an’ easy spierin’, says… Oh, I wad like to ken—to the begg…

OUR Johnie’s deid. The mair’s th… He’s deid, an’ deid o’ Aqua—vitae… O Embro’, you’re a shrunken city, Noo Johnie’s deid! Tak hands, an’ sing a burial ditty