#Scots #XIXCentury
SMALL is the trust when love is… In sap of early years; A little thing steps in between And kisses turn to tears. Awhile —and see how love be grown
MOTLEY I count the only wear That suits, in this mixed world, t… Who boldly smile upon despair And shake their bells in Grandam… Singers should sing with such a go…
GO, little book– the ancient phra… And still the daintiest– go your w… My Otto, over sea and land, Till you shall come to Nelly’s ha… How shall I your Nelly know?
THE summer sun shone round me, The folded valley lay In a stream of sun and odour, That sultry summer day. The tall trees stood in the sunlig…
LATE, O miller, The birds are silent, The darkness falls. In the house the lights are lighte… See, in the valley they twinkle,
On the great streams the ships may… About men’s business to and fro. But I, the egg-shell pinnace, sle… On crystal waters ankle-deep: I, whose diminutive design,
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…
Child — O mother, lay your hand on my brow… O mother, mother, where am I now? Why is the room so gaunt and great… Why am I lying awake so late?
As One Who Having Wandered All… AS one who having wandered all ni… In a perplexed forest, comes at le… In the first hours, about the mati… And when the sun uprises in his st…
Before this little gift was come The little owner had made haste fo… And from the door of where the ete… Looked back on human things and sm… O may this grief remain the only o…
So shall this book wax like unto a… Fairy with mirrored flowers about… Or like some tarn that wailing cur… Glassing the sallow uplands or bro… And so, as men go down into a dell
LOVE —what is love? A great and… Wrung hands; and silence; and a lo… Life —what is life? Upon a moorla… To see love coming and see love de…
In dreams, unhappy, I behold you… As heretofore: The unremembered tokens in your ha… Avail no more. No more the morning glow, no more…
LONG TIME I LAY IN LIT… LONG time I lay in little ease Where, placed by the Turanian, Marseilles, the many—masted, sees The blue Mediterranean.
IN the green and gallant Spring, Love and the lyre I thought to si… And kisses sweet to give and take By the flowery hawthorn brake. Now is russet Autumn here,