#Scots
(Whan the dear doctor, dear to a’, Was still amang us here belaw, I set my pipes his praise to blaw Wi’ a’ my speerit; But noo, Dear Doctor! he’s awa’,
The stormy evening closes now in v… Loud wails the wind and beats the… While here in sheltered house With fire-ypainted walls, I hear the wind abroad,
Here all is sunny, and when the tr… Skims the green level of the lawn,… Dispetals roses; here the house is… Of kneaded brick and the plumed mo… Such clay as artists fashion and s…
When I am grown to man’s estate I shall be very proud and great, And tell the other girls and boys Not to meddle with my toys.
AGAIN I hear you piping, for I… You rouse the heart to wander and… Tho’ where you learned your music,… For you pipe the open highway and… O piper, lightly footing, lightly…
OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear me,
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,
AS when the hunt by holt and fiel… Drives on with horn and strife, Hunger of hopeless things pursues Our spirits throughout life. The sea’s roar fills us aching ful…
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?
Not undelightful, friend, our rust… To grateful hearts; for by especia… Deep nested in the hill’s enormous… With its own ring of walls and gro… Sits, in deep shelter, our small c…
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…
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…
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,
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,
Some day soon this rhyming volume,… Little Louis Sanchez, will be giv… Then you shall discover, that your… By the English printers, long bef… In the great and busy city where t…
