#ScottishWriters
The monk was praying in his cell, With bowed head praying sore; He had been praying on his knees For two long hours and more. As of themselves, all suddenly,
I waited for the Master In the darkness dumb; Light came fast and faster– My light did not come! I waited all the daylight,
Alas, ’tis cold and dark! The wind all night hath sung a win… Hail from black clouds that swallo… Beat, beat against my bark. Oh! why delays the spring?
To My Father Take of the first fruits, father,… Wrapped in the fresh leaves of my… Late waked for early gifts ill und… Claiming in all my harvests rightf…
I. I honour Nature, holding it un… To look with jealousy on her desig… With every passing year more fast… About my heart; with her mysteriou… Claim I a fellowship not less aug…
The sun is gone down And the moon’s in the sky But the sun will come up And the moon be laid by. The flower is asleep.
How shall he sing who hath no song… He laugh who hath no mirth? Will cannot wake the sleeping song… Yea, Love itself in vain may long To sing with them that have a song…
‘Death, whaur do ye bide, auld De… ‘I bide in ilka breath,’ Quo’ Death; ‘No i’ the pyramids, No whaur the wormie rids
A power is on me, and my soul must… To thee, thou grey, grey man, whom… With those white-headed children.… To commune with thy setting, and t… My doubts on thy grey hair; for I…
I think I might be weary of this… That comes inevitably every year, The same when I was young and str… The same when I am old and growin… I should grow weary of it every ye…
Oh! is it Death that comes To have a foretaste of the whole? To-night the planets and the stars Will glimmer through my window-bar… But will not shine upon my soul!
Shepherd, on before thy sheep, Hear thy lamb that bleats behind! Scarce the track I stumbling keep… Through my thin fleece blows the w… Turn and see me, Son of Man!
There is a bellowing in me, as of… Unfleshed and visionless, mangling… With horrible convulse, as if it b… The cruel weight of worlds, but co… With the thick-dropping clods, and…
They are blind, and they are dead: We will wake them as we go; There are words have not been said… There are sounds they do not know: We will pipe and we will sing–
What dost thou here, O soul, Beyond thy own control, Under the strange wild sky? 0 stars, reach down your hands, And clasp me in your silver bands,