#Activities #RhymedStanza #ScottishWriters & Drinking Eating
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…
BEYOND the gates thou gav’st a… I have a larger on my window—sill. A farm, d’ye say? Is this a farm… Where for all woods I spay one tu… And that so rusty, and so small a…
I will make you brooches and toys… Of bird—song at morning and star—s… I will make a palace fit for you a… Of green days in forests and blue… I will make my kitchen, and you sh…
Three of us afloat in the meadow b… Three of us abroad in the basket o… Winds are in the air, they are blo… And waves are on the meadow like t… Where shall we adventure, to—day t…
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, With eyes of gold and bramble—dew, Steel—true and blade—straight, The great artificer Made my mate.
The lamps now glitter down the str… Faintly sound the falling feet; And the blue even slowly falls About the garden trees and walls. Now in the falling of the gloom
Though he, that ever kind and true… Kept stoutly step by step with you… Your whole long, gusty lifetime th… Be gone a while before, Be now a moment gone before,
WHAT is the face, the fairest fa… Till Care the graver —Care with c… Etches content thereon and makes i… Or constancy, and love, and makes…
Where the bells peal far at sea Cunning fingers fashioned me. There on palace walls I hung While that Consuelo sung; But I heard, though I listened we…
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.
In the highlands, in the country p… Where the old plain men have rosy… And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and…
The bed was made, the room was fit… By punctual eve the stars were lit… The air was still, the water ran, No need was there for maid or man, When we put up, my ass and I,
In all the grove, nor stream nor b… Nor aught beside my blows was hear… And the woods wore their noonday d… The glory of their silentness. From the island summit to the seas…
Friend, in my mountain-side demesn… My plain-beholding, rosy, green And linnet-haunted garden-ground, Let still the esculents abound. Let first the onion flourish there…
LOUD and low in the chimney The squalls suspire; Then like an answer dwindles And glows the fire, And the chamber reddens and darken…