#ScottishWriters
Willie speaks. Is it wrong, the wish to be great, For I do wish it so? I have asked already my sister Ka… She says she does not know.
In the hot sun, for water cool She walked in listless mood: When back she ran, her pitcher ful… Forgot behind her stood. Like one who followed straying she…
Were I a skilful painter, My pencil, not my pen, Should try to teach thee hope and… And who would blame me then?- Fear of the tide of darkness
Heaven and the sea attend the dyin… And in their sadness overflow and… Faint gold, and windy blue, and gr… Far out amid them my pale soul I… For, as they mingle, so mix life a…
I.-THIS SIDE AN’ THAT. The rich man sat in his father’s s… Purple an’ linen, an’ a’thing fine… The puir man lay at his yett i’ th… Sairs an’ tatters, an’ weary pine!
Are the leaves falling round about The churchyard on the hill? Is the glow of autumn going out? Is that the winter chill? And yet through winter’s noise, no…
Methinks I see thee, lying straig… Silent and darkling, in thy earthy… The mighty strength in which I tr… The long arms lying careless of ki… On thy tall form I see the night-…
Whence do ye come, ye creatures?… Is perfect as an angel! wings and… Stupendous in their beauty-gorgeou… In feathery fields of purple and o… Would God I saw a moment as ye do…
Forth to his study the sculptor go… In a mood of lofty mirth: ‘Now shall the tongues of my carpi… Confess what my art is worth! In my brain last night the vision…
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…
Grief held me silent in my seat; I neither moved nor smiled: Joy held her silent at my feet, My shining lily-child. She raised her face and looked in…
Father, in the dark I lay, Thirsting for the light, Helpless, but for hope alway In thy father-might. Out of darkness came the morn,
‘What! you Dr. Doddridge’s dog, a… My little dog, who blessed you With such white toothy-pegs? And who was it that dressed you In such a lot of legs?
He who by a mother’s love Made the wandering world his own, Every year comes from above, Comes the parted to atone, Binding Earth to the Father’s thr…
Well for youth to seek the strong, Beautiful, and brave! We, the old, who walk along Gently to the grave, Only pay our court to thee,