#ScottishWriters
SHEPHERD, thou say’st there is… Which rules our changeful destinie… Can mortal vision soar so far, Or pierce such mighty mysteries? Shepherd, ’tis said thy mind recal…
There dwelt a miller, hale and bol… Beside the river Dee; He worked and sang from morn till… No lark more blithe than he; And this the burden of his song
Strew roses on the way, And think no more of grief, Short is the passing day, Short-lived the summer leaf; Short is our mortal span
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…
O! Father, hear! Thou know’st my secret thought, Thou know’st with love and fear I bend before Thy mighty throne, And before Thee I hold myself as…
When the tempests fly O’er the cloudy sky, And the piping blast sings wearily… O! sweet is the mirth Of the social hearth,
’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,
Far away! O far away, Over the wide sea’s bounding spray… Many a league o’er the pelting foa… We seek a country, we seek a home! Farewell, England! our native lan…
Come, maidens come, to our merry d… Youth and Beauty come together; Let young hearts meet In converse sweet, At twilight’s time, in the summer…
Why, O wind of summer. Why that restless moan? Weepest thou for pleasures That are past and gone? Mournest thou for visions
A mighty tempest rent the sky, As if a god were passing by. Bending to earth my humbled head, In solemn and religious dread, And kneeling on the sod,
Light is love without esteem. Lighter than a feather, But ours has borne Contempt and scorn, And sorrow’s wintry weather!
‘Where is the place of their first… ’Where, oh where, is that green ba… ‘Under whose cover ’The maid and her lover ‘Plighted their troth and their co…
‘Where shall I hide myself?- Lost and undone!- A beggar—an outcast— Insulting the Sun! Oh! Yesterday vanished!
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