#Scots #XIXCentury
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…
YOU fear, Ligurra– above all, yo… That I should smite you with a st… This dreadful honour you both fear… Both all in vain: you fall below m… The Lybian lion tears the roaring…
The Lord Himsel’ in former days Waled out the proper tunes for pra… An’ named the proper kind o’ claes For folk to preach in: Preceese and in the chief o’ ways
Whenever Auntie moves around, Her dresses make a curious sound, They trail behind her up the floor… And trundle after through the door…
CALL it to mind, O my love. Dear were your eyes as the day, Bright as the day and the sky; Like the stream of gold and the sk… Dear were your eyes in the grey.
WHEN my young lady has grown gre… And in long raiment wondrously arr… She may take pleasure with a smile… How she delighted men—folk long ag… For her long after, then, this tal…
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…
With half a heart I wander here As from an age gone by A brother yet—though young in year… An elder brother, I. You speak another tongue than mine…
LET love go, if go she will. Seek not, O fool, her wanton flig… Of all she gives and takes away The best remains behind her still. The best remains behind; in vain
MY first gift and my last, to you I dedicate this fascicle of songs… The only wealth I have: Just as they are, to you. I speak the truth in soberness, an…
Behold, as goblins dark of mien And portly tyrants dyed with crime Change, in the transformation scen… At Christmas, in the pantomime, Instanter, at the prompter’s cough…
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…
Youth now flees on feathered foot. Faint and fainter sounds the flute… Rarer songs of gods; and still Somewhere on the sunny hill, Or along the winding stream,
I heard the pulse of the besieging… Throb far away all night. I hear… Fly crying and convulse tumultuous… I rose and strolled. The isle wa… And flailing fans and shadows of t…
The embers of the day are red Beyond the murky hill. The kitchen smokes: the bed In the darkling house is spread: The great sky darkens overhead,
