#Scots #XIXCentury
Berried brake and reedy island, Heaven below, and only heaven abov… Through the sky’s inverted azure Softly swam the boat that bore our… Bright were your eyes as the day;
Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hand… And looked abroad in foreign lands… I saw the next door garden lie,
In the highlands, in the country p… Where the old plain men have rosy… And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and…
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…
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…
STRANGE are the ways of men, And strange the ways of God! We tread the mazy paths That all our fathers trod. We tread them undismayed,
DEATH, to the dead for evermore A King, a God, the last, the best… Whene’er this mortal journey ends Death, like a host, comes smiling… Smiling, he greets us, on that tra…
LOUD and low in the chimney The squalls suspire; Then like an answer dwindles And glows the fire, And the chamber reddens and darken…
Here all is sunny, and when the tr… Skims the green level of the lawn,… Dispetals roses; here the house is… Of kneaded brick and the plumed mo… Such clay as artists fashion and s…
I HAVE left all upon the shamefu… Honour and Hope, my God, and all… Spurless, with sword reversed and… Degraded and disgraced, I leave t… From him that hath not, shall ther…
The gardener does not love to talk… He makes me keep the gravel walk; And when he puts his tools away, He locks the door and takes the ke… Away behind the currant row
It’s rainin’. Weet’s the gairden… Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels… A maist unceevil thing o’ God In mid July — If ye’ll just curse the sneckdraw,…
WHETHER upon the garden seat You lounge with your uplifted feet Under the May’s whole Heaven of b… Or whether on the sofa you, No grown up person being by,
Far `yont amang the years to be When a’ we think, an’ a’ we see, An’ a’ we luve, `s been dung ajee By time’s rouch shouther, An’ what was richt and wrang for m…
When the golden day is done, Through the closing portal, Child and garden, Flower and sun, Vanish all things mortal. As the blinding shadows fall
