#ScottishWriters
The world is so full of a number o… I’m sure we should all be as happy…
When children are playing alone on… In comes the playmate that never w… When children are happy and lonely… The Friend of the Children comes… Nobody heard him, and nobody saw,
Dear Thamson class, whaure’er I g… It aye comes ower me wi’ a spang: “Lordsake! They Thamson lads - (… Or else lord mend them!) - An’ that Wanchancy annual sang
I read, dear friend, in your dear… Your life’s tale told with perfect… The river of your life, I trace Up the sun-chequered, devious bed To the far-distant fountain-head.
Summer fading, winter comes— Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story—books. Water now is turned to stone
To see the infinite pity of this p… The mangled limb, the devastated f… The innocent sufferer smiling at t… A fool were tempted to deny his G… He sees, he shrinks. But if he g…
About my fields, in the broad sun And blaze of noon, there goeth one… Barefoot and robed in blue, to sca… With the hard eye of the husbandma… My harvests and my cattle. Her,
THOUGH deep indifference should… The sluggish life beneath my brows… And all the external things I see Grow snow—showers in the street to… Yet inmost in my stormy sense
When I was sick and lay a—bed, I had two pillows at my head, And all my toys beside me lay, To keep me happy all the day. And sometimes for an hour or so
A naked house, a naked moor, A shivering pool before the door, A garden bare of flowers and fruit And poplars at the garden foot; Such is the place that I live in,
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…
LO, now, my guest, if aught amiss… Forgive it and dismiss it from you… For me, for you, for all, to close… Pass now the ev’ning sponge across… And to that spirit of forgiveness…
Whenever the moon and stars are se… Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet… A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires a…
Written in April to Kaiulani in the April of her age; and at Waikiki, within easy walk of Kaiulani’s banyan! When she comes to my land and her father’s, and the rain beats upon the wind...
Let us, who part like brothers, pa… And you in your tongue and measure… Our now division duly solemnise. Unlike the strains, and yet the th… The strains unlike, and how unlike…