#Scots
There are men and classes of men t… common herd: the soldier, the sail… unfrequently; the artist rarely; r… the physician almost as a rule. H… is) of our civilisation; and when…
WHEN loud by landside streamlets… And clear in the greenwood quires… With sun on the meadows And songs in the shadows Comes again to me
As in the hostel by the bridge I… Nailed with indifference fondly de… And (O strange chance, more sorro… The counterfeit of her that was my… Dressed in like vesture, graceful…
Of all my verse, like not a single… But like my title, for it is not m… That title from a better man I st… Ah, how much better, had I stol’n…
As One Who Having Wandered All… AS one who having wandered all ni… In a perplexed forest, comes at le… In the first hours, about the mati… And when the sun uprises in his st…
THEY tell me, lady, that to—day On that unknown Australian strand… Some time ago, so far away— Another lady joined the band. She joined the company of those
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
IN the highlands, in the country… Where the old plain men have rosy… And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and…
SINCE years ago for evermore My cedar ship I drew to shore; And to the road and riverbed And the green, nodding reeds, I s… Mine ignorant and last farewell:
The gauger walked with willing foo… And aye the gauger played the flut… And what should Master Gauger pla… But Over the hills and far away? Whene’er I buckle on my pack
Trusty, dusky, vivid, true, With eyes of gold and bramble—dew, Steel—true and blade—straight, The great artificer Made my mate.
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,
In rigorous hours, when down the i… The redbreast looks in vain For hips and haws, Lo, shining flowers upon my window… The silver pencil of the winter dr…
Frae nirly, nippin’, Eas’lan’ bre… Frae Norlan’ snaw, an’ haar o’ se… Weel happit in your gairden trees, A bonny bit, Atween the muckle Pentland’s knee…
WITH caws and chirrupings, the w… In this thin sun rejoice. The Psalm seems but the little ki… That sings with its own voice. The cloud—rifts share their amber…
