O ye who by the gaping earth Where, faint with resurrection, la… An empire struggling into birth, Her storm-strown beauty cold with… The free winds round her flowery h…

As one doth touch a flower wherein… Trembles to fall, as one unplaits… Of morning gossamer, so tenderly My spirit touches thine. Yet, dau… And fair, great Launcelot’s might…

Rain, rain, sweet warm rain, On the wood and on the plain! Rain, rain, warm and sweet, Summer wood lush leafy and loud, With note of a throat that ripples…

Daft Jean, The waesome wean, She cam’ by the cottage, she cam’… The laird’s ha’ o’ Wutherstanelaw… The cottar’s cot by the birken sha…

NATURE, a jealous mistress, lai… He woo’d and won her; and, by love… She show’d him more than mortal ma… Then slew him lest her secret shou…

A’the toun is to the doun Puin’ o’ the blaeberrie. Ab’s gane, Rab’s gane, Aggie’s gane, Maggie’s gane, A’ the toun is to the doun,

No comfort, nay, no comfort. Yet… In Sorrow’s cause with Sorrow int… Burst not the great heart,—this is… Ah sentence it to suffer, not to d… ‘Comfort?’ If Jesus wept at Beth…

Lo, this is night. Hast thou, oh… Thy countenance, or is thy golden… Shortened, or from thy shining pla… Art thou put down and lost? Neith… Refused thy constant face, nor is…

By Temèsvar I hear the clarions c… The year dies. Let it die. It liv… Gun booms to gun along the looming… Another year advances o’er the pla… The Despot hails it from his bann…

The butter an’ the cheese weel sto… I sit on the hen-coop the eggs on… The lang kail jigs as we jog owre… The gray mare’s tail it wags wi’ t… The warm simmer sky is blue aboon…

Doth this hand live? Trust not a… My country! Smite that cheek; the… But of the clay! no flush of shame… This is the smell o’ the grave. L… And see that brow. Lo! how the de…

Traveller on foreign ground, whoe’… Tell the great tidings! They went… A Legion, and came back from vict… Two hundred men and Glory! On the… Is this ‘to losc?’ Yet, Stranger,…

I have heard a friar say That the Olive learned to pray In Gethsemane,- A holy man was he, Jacopo by name,-

At last the curse has run its date… The heavens grow clear above, And on the purple plains of Hate, We’ll build the throne of Love! One great heroic reign divine

Lord Christ, Lord Christ, ah for… Turn hence. Some day, when I agai… In the new dust of whatsoever blow Time hath in license, from Thy pe… Oh let the awful solace of thy fac…