#ScottishWriters
Peace and her huge invasion to the… Puts daily home; innumerable sails Dawn on the far horizon and draw n… Innumerable loves, uncounted hopes To our wild coasts, not darkling n…
SO live, so love, so use that fra… That when the dark hand of the shi… Shall one from other, wife or husb… The poor survivor may not weep and…
I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies’ skirts across the gra… O wind, a—blowing all day long,
The sun is not a—bed, when I At night upon my pillow lie; Still round the earth his way he t… And morning after morning makes. While here at home, in shining day…
As in the hostel by the bridge I… Nailed with indifference fondly de… And (O strange chance, more sorro… The counterfeit of her that was my… Dressed in like vesture, graceful…
YOU have been far, and I Been farther yet, Since last, in foul or fair An impecunious pair, Below this northern sky
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…
DEATH, to the dead for evermore A King, a God, the last, the best… Whene’er this mortal journey ends Death, like a host, comes smiling… Smiling, he greets us, on that tra…
The sheets were frozen hard, and t… The decks were like a slide, where… The wind was a nor’wester, blowing… And cliffs and spouting breakers w… They heard the surf a—roaring befo…
In mony a foreign pairt I’ve been… An’ mony an unco ferlie seen, Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I Last walkit upon Cocklerye. Wi’ gleg, observant een, I pass’t
Blows the wind to-day, and the sun… Blows the wind on the moors to-day… Where about the graves of the mart… My heart remembers how! Grey recumbent tombs of the dead i…
The world is so full of a number o… I’m sure we should all be as happy…
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?
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 Martial owns a garden, famed t… Beyond the glades of the Hesperid… Along Janiculum lies the chosen b… Where the cool grottos trench the… The moderate summit, something pla…
