#ScottishWriters
The wind it blew, and the ship it… And it was ‘Hey for hame!’ But up an’ cried the skipper til h… ‘Haud her oot ower the saut sea fa… Syne up an’ spak the angry king:
The infant lies in blessed ease Upon his mother’s breast; No storm, no dark, the baby sees Invade his heaven of rest. He nothing knows of change or deat…
Little Boy Blue lost his way in a… Sing apples and cherries, roses an… He said, 'I would not go back if… It’s all so jolly and funny!’ He sang, ‘This wood is all my own…
Dead art thou? No more dead than… Over whose couch the saving God d… ‘She is not dead but sleepeth,’ sa… And took her by the hand! Thee knowledge never from Life’s…
In the winter, flowers are springi… In the winter, woods are green, Where our banished birds are singi… Where our summer sun is seen! Our cold midnights are coeval
All things are shadows of thee, L… The sun himself is but thy shade; My spirit is the shadow of thy wor… A thing that thou hast said. Diamonds are shadows of the sun,
Uplifted is the stone And all mankind arisen! We are thy very own, We are no more in prison! What bitterest grief can stay
O God, whose daylight leadeth dow… Into the sunless way, Who with restoring sleep dost crow… The labour of the day! What I have done, Lord, make it c…
Mourn not, my friends, that we are… A fresher birth brings every new y… Years are Christ’s napkins to wip… See now, I’ll be to you an angel… My plumes are ruffled, and they sh…
Love is the part, and love is the… Love is the robe, and love is the… Ruler of heart and brain and soul, Love is the lord and the slave of… I thank thee, Love, that thou lov…
A gentle wind, of western birth On some far summer sea, Wakes daisies in the wintry earth, Wakes hopes in wintry me. The sun is low; the paths are wet,
Kiss me: there now, little Neddy, Do you see her staring steady? There again you had a chance of he… Didn’t you catch the pretty glance… See her nest! On any planet
‘What gars ye sing,’ said the herd… ‘What gars ye sing sae lood?’ ‘To tice them oot o’ the yerd, lad… The worms for my daily food.’ An’ aye he sang, an’ better he san…
I have not any fearful tale to tel… Of fabled giant or of dragon-claw, Or bloody deed to pilfer and to se… To those who feed, with such, a ga… But what in yonder hamlet there be…
If thou hadst been a sculptor, wha… Of forms divine had thenceforth fi… Methinks I see thee, glorious wor… Striking a marble window through b… Thy face’s reflex on the coming fa…