#ScottishWriters
’Tis sweet, in the shade of the lo… In the dewy morning time, To hear the song of the joyous lar… Or the distant village chime; Or to sit and think,
Why, O wind of summer. Why that restless moan? Weepest thou for pleasures That are past and gone? Mournest thou for visions
BEAUTIFUL Paris! morning star… The Lucifer of cities, lifting hi… The beacon blaze of young democrac… Medina and Gomorrha both in one Medina of a high and holy creed
The loud blast leaps from wave to… Around our heads the thunders rave… And dark, dark is the midnight sky… Save when the lightning flashes hi… O! God whom we revere!
If thy bosom undaunted ne’er quail… Or feared to stand forth for the r… If thy doors were ne’er shut on th… Thy heart never false to its pligh… To thee we will drink, as a king a…
A little stream had lost its way Amid the grass and fern; A passing stranger scooped a well, Where weary men might turn; He walled it in and hung with care
In the deep silence of the night, We come, O harvest moon, To dance beneath thy gentle light, To many a merry tune; We come, whilst thou in thoughtful…
Didst ever see a hanging?'-'No, n… Nor ever wish to see such scandal… But once I saw a wretch condemn’d… A lean-faced, bright-eyed youth, w… At the recital of a dream he had.
You have no enemies, you say? Alas! my friend, the boast is poor… He who has mingled in the fray Of duty, that the brave endure, Must have made foes! If you have…
In valleys where the white man’s f… Ne’er treads the early dew, By mighty streams, whose waters de… Ne’er bear his light canoe; In wild woods, where the settler’s…
O! sadly, ye dark rolling waves of… O! sadly ye beat on this desolate… And wake, with the voice of your r… Sad thoughts of the home 1 must vi… From the far distant land which ha…
If I were a voice, a persuasive v… That could travel the wide world t… I would fly on the beams of the mo… And speak to men with a gentle mig… And tell them to be true.
O! for the shade of the sycamore, That spreadeth its boughs at my co… O! for the kiss of my bonnie bride… And the welcome glow of her warm f… And O! for the smile of my bonnie…
Soldier of Poland! wherefore sigh… Freedom, though crushed, shall nev… Though for awhile her noble head Be trampled by the Cossack’s trea… Though the proud Russian lay her…
Light is love without esteem. Lighter than a feather, But ours has borne Contempt and scorn, And sorrow’s wintry weather!
