#Scots
SWALLOWS travel to and fro, And the great winds come and go, And the steady breezes blow, Bearing perfume, bearing love. Breezes hasten, swallows fly,
Last, to the chamber where I lie My fearful footsteps patter nigh, And come out from the cold and glo… Into my warm and cheerful room. There, safe arrived, we turn about
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…
I woke before the morning, I was… I never said an ugly word, but smi… And now at last the sun is going d… And I am very happy, for I know t… My bed is waiting cool and fresh,…
The sheets were frozen hard, and t… The decks were like a slide, where… The wind was a nor’wester, blowing… And cliffs and spouting breakers w… They heard the surf a—roaring befo…
BEYOND the gates thou gav’st a… I have a larger on my window—sill. A farm, d’ye say? Is this a farm… Where for all woods I spay one tu… And that so rusty, and so small a…
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…
In winter I get up at night And dress by yellow candle—light. In summer quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day. I have to go to bed and see
My bonny man, the warld, it’s true… Was made for neither me nor you; It’s just a place to warstle throu… As job confessed o’t; And aye the best that we’ll can do
YOU have been far, and I Been farther yet, Since last, in foul or fair An impecunious pair, Below this northern sky
NOW when the number of my years Is all fulfilled, and I From sedentary life Shall rouse me up to die, Bury me low and let me lie
Bring the comb and play upon it! Marching, here we come! Willie cocks his highland bonnet, Johnnie beats the drum. Mary Jane commands the party,
Smooth it glides upon its travel, Here a wimple, there a gleam— O the clean gravel! O the smooth stream! Sailing blossoms, silver fishes,
NOW in the sky And on the hearth of Now in a drawer the direful cane, That sceptre of the . . . reign, And the long hawser, that on the b…
Great is the sun, and wide he goes Through empty heaven with repose; And in the blue and glowing days More thick than rain he showers hi… Though closer still the blinds we…