#ScottishWriters
From breakfast on through all the… At home among my friends I stay, But every night I go abroad Afar into the land of Nod. All by myself I have to go,
THIS gloomy northern day, Or this yet gloomier night, Has moved a something high In my cold heart; and I, That do not often pray,
Come up here, O dusty feet! Here is fairy ready to eat. Here in my retiring room, Children, you may dine On the golden smell of broom
IF I have faltered more or less In my great task of happiness; If I have moved among my race And shown no glorious morning face… If beams from happy human eyes
I knew a silver head was bright be… I knew a queen of toil with a crow… Garland of valour and sorrow, of b… Life, that honours the brave, crow… The beauties of youth are frail, b…
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 broad sun, The bright day: White sails On the blue bay: The far—farers
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…
The red room with the giant bed Where none but elders laid their h… The little room where you and I Did for awhile together lie And, simple, suitor, I your hand
Last, to the chamber where I lie My fearful footsteps patter nigh, And come out from the cold and glo… Into my warm and cheerful room. There, safe arrived, we turn about
A mile an’ a bittock, a mile or tw… Abune the burn, ayont the law, Davie an’ Donal’ an’ Cherlie an’… An’ the mune was shinin’ clearly! Ane went hame wi’ the ither, an’ t…
When the grass was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the turf a hole I found And hid a soldier underground. Spring and daisies came apace;
EARLY in the morning I hear on… You (at least, I guess it’s you)… Mostly little minds should take an… While the birds are singing in the…
When I was down beside the sea A wooden spade they gave to me To dig the sandy shore. My holes were empty like a cup. In every hole the sea came up
Dear Andrew, with the brindled ha… Who glory to have thrown in air, High over arm, the trembling reed, By Ale and Kail, by Till and Twe… An equal craft of hand you show