#ScottishWriters
We travelled in the print of olden… Yet all the land was green, And love we found, and peace, Where fire and war had been. They pass and smile, the children…
MY first gift and my last, to you I dedicate this fascicle of songs… The only wealth I have: Just as they are, to you. I speak the truth in soberness, an…
A birdie with a yellow bill Hopped upon my window sill, Cocked his shining eye and said: “Ain’t you 'shamed, you sleepy—hea…
The gardener does not love to talk… He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the ke… Away behind the currant row
GO(D) knows, my Martial, if we t… To enjoy our days set wholly free; To the true life together bend our… And take a furlough from the false… No rich saloon, nor palace of the…
When the golden day is done, Through the closing portal, Child and garden, Flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal. As the blinding shadows fall
MEN are Heaven’s piers; they eve… Unwearying bear the skyey floor; Man’s theatre they bear with ease, Unfrowning cariatides! I, for my wife, the sun uphold,
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…
Let now your soul in this substant… Some anchor strike. Be here the… This spectacle immutably from now The picture in your eye; and when… And the green scene goes on the in…
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
I AM like one that for long days… With seaward eyes set keen against… On some lone foreland, watching sa… The portbound ships for one ship t… And sail by sail, his heart burned…
My bed is like a little boat; Nurse helps me in when I embark; She girds me in my sailor’s coat And starts me in the dark. At night I go on board and say
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…
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…
HERE in the quiet eve My thankful eyes receive The quiet light. I see the trees stand fair Against the faded air,