#ScottishWriters
Per me si va nella citta dolente. —Dante Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti mot… D’ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa, Girando senza posa,
Waking one morning In a pleasant land, By a river flowing Over golden sand:— Whence flow ye, waters,
Their eyes met; flashed an instant… That leapt unparring to each other… Jarring convulsion through the inm… Then fell, for they had fully done… She, in the manner of her folk unv…
“Why are your songs all wild and b… As funeral dirges with the orphans… Each night since first the world w… A sequent day to laugh it down the… Chant us a glee to make our hearts…
WHEN one is forty years and seve… Is seven and forty sad years old, He looks not onward for his Heave… The future is too blank and cold, Its pale flowers smell of graveyar…
The wine of Love is music, And the feast of Love is song: And when Love sits down to the ba… Love sits long: Sits long and arises drunken,
For I must sing of all I feel and… Waiting with Memnon passive near… Until the heavenly light doth dawn… And thrill my silence into mystic… From unknown realms the wind strea…
FROM out the house I crept, The house which long had caged my… The mighty City in vast silence s… Dreaming away its tumult, toil, an… But sleep and sleep’s rich dreams…
Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall, Sunday evening—date to fix— Fifteenth April, sixty-six, Speech reported and redacted By a fellow much distracted.
The fire that filled my heart of o… Gave luster while it burned; Now only ashes gray and cold Are in its silence urned. Ah! better was the furious flame,
FROM the midst of the fire I fli… These arrows of fire to you: If they sing, and burn, and sting, You feel how I burn too; But if they reach you there
THE CHURCH stands there beyond… How yearningly I gaze upon its sp… Lifted mysterious through the twil… Dissolving in the sunset’s golden… Or dim as slender incense morn by…
His eyes found nothing beautiful a… Nor wealth nor honour, glory nor d… Which he could grasp and keep with… Flowers bloomed for maidens, sword… The world’s big children had their…
(AN VERY IDLE IDYLL B… This is the Heath of Hampstead, This is the Dome of Saint Paul’s… Beneath, on the serried house-tops… A chequered luster falls:
To Alice and Hypatia Bradlaugh Who was Lilah? I am sure She was young and sweet and pure; With the forehead wise men love,- Here a lucid dawn above
