#ScottishWriters
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,
Clinkum—clank in the rain they rid… Down by the braes and the grey sea… Clinkum—clank by stane and cairn, Weary fa’ their horse—shoe—airn! Loud on the causey, saft on the sa…
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…
The strong man’s hand, the snow—co… The certain—footed sympathies of y… These, and that lofty passion afte… Hunger unsatisfied in priest or sa… Or the great men of former years,…
Where the bells peal far at sea Cunning fingers fashioned me. There on palace walls I hung While that Consuelo sung; But I heard, though I listened we…
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…
BY sunny market—place and street Wherever I go my drum I beat, And wherever I go in my coat of r… The ribbons flutter about my head. I seek recruits for wars to come —
(Whan the dear doctor, dear to a’, Was still amang us here belaw, I set my pipes his praise to blaw Wi’ a’ my speerit; But noo, Dear Doctor! he’s awa’,
OUR Johnie’s deid. The mair’s th… He’s deid, an’ deid o’ Aqua—vitae… O Embro’, you’re a shrunken city, Noo Johnie’s deid! Tak hands, an’ sing a burial ditty
I KNOW not how, but as I count The beads of former years, Old laughter catches in my throat With the very feel of tears.
Plain as the glistering planets sh… When winds have cleaned the skies, Her love appeared, appealed for mi… And wantoned in her eyes. Clear as the shining tapers burned
LO, now, my guest, if aught amiss… Forgive it and dismiss it from you… For me, for you, for all, to close… Pass now the ev’ning sponge across… And to that spirit of forgiveness…
AWAY with funeral music– set The pipe to powerful lips— The cup of life’s for him that dri… And not for him that sips.
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…
STOUT marches lead to certain en… We seek no Holy Grail, my friends… That dawn should find us every day Some fraction farther on our way. The dumb lands sleep from east to…