#Scots #XIXCentury
SO live, so love, so use that fra… That when the dark hand of the shi… Shall one from other, wife or husb… The poor survivor may not weep and…
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…
Then the bright lamp is carried in… The sunless hours again begin; O’er all without, in field and lan… The haunted night returns again. Now we behold the embers flee
FEAR not, dear friend, but freel… Though lesser lives should suffer.… A lesser life, that what is his of… Gladly would give for you, and wha… Step, without trouble, down the su…
AS in their flight the birds of s… Halt here and there in sweet and s… But halt not overlong; The time one rural song to sing They pause; then following bounteo…
Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore… Sing truer or no longer sing! No more the voice of melancholy J… To wake a weeping echo in the hill… But as the boy, the pirate of the…
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,
Give to me the life I love, Let the lave go by me, Give the jolly heaven above And the byway nigh me. Bed in the bush with stars to see,
What are you able to build with yo… Castles and palaces, temples and d… Rain may keep raining, and others… But I can be happy and building a… Let the sofa be mountains, the car…
From the bonny bells of heather They brewed a drink long—syne, Was sweeter far than honey, Was stronger far than wine. They brewed it and they drank it,
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
THE wind is without there and how… And the rain—flurries drum on the… Alone by the fireside with elbows… I can number the hours as they pas… Yet now, when to cheer me the cric…
Resign the rhapsody, the dream, To men of larger reach; Be ours the quest of a plain theme… The piety of speech. As monkish scribes from morning br…
Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Ch… Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for t… Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum!
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…