I know not how it is with you — I love the first and last, The whole field of the present vie… The whole flow of the past. One tittle of the things that are,

Sing me a song of a lad that is go… Say, could that lad be I? Merry of soul he sailed on a day Over the sea to Skye. Mull was astern, Rum on the port,

Apologetic Postscript Of A Year… IF you see this song, my dear, And last year’s toast, I’m confoundedly in fear You’ll be serious and severe

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…

TO all that love the far and blue… Whether, from dawn to eve, on foot The fleeing corners ye pursue, Nor weary of the vain pursuit; Or whether down the singing stream…

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.

You too, my mother, read my rhymes For love of unforgotten times, And you may chance to hear once mo… The little feet along the floor.

TO friends at home, the lone, the… The gracious old, the lovely young… The fair, December the beloved, These from my blue horizon and gre… These from this pinnacle of distan…

I LOVE to be warm by the red fir… I love to be wet with rain: I love to be welcome at lamplit do… And leave the doors again.

The strong man’s hand, the snow—co… The certain—footed sympathies of y… These, and that lofty passion afte… Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sa… Or the great men of former years,…

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…

The moon has a face like the clock… She shines on thieves on the garde… On streets and fields and harbour… And birdies asleep in the forks of… The squalling cat and the squeakin…

A lover of the moorland bare, And honest country winds, you were… The silver-skimming rain you took; And loved the floodings of the bro… Dew, frost and mountains, fire and…

Whenever Auntie moves around, Her dresses make a curious sound, They trail behind her up the floor… And trundle after through the door…

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