#ScottishWriters
To whom the heavy burden clings, It yet may serve him like a staff; One day the cross will break in wi… The sinner laugh a holy laugh. The dwarfed Zacchaeus climbed a t…
Brother artist, help me; come! Artists are a maimed band: I have words but not a hand; Thou hast hands though thou art du… Had I thine, when words did fail–
For years eighteen she, patient so… Her eyes had graveward sent; Her earthly life was lapt in dole, She was so bowed and bent. What words! To her? Who can be ne…
It is no winter night comes down Upon our hearts, dear friends of o… But a May evening, softly brown, Whose wind is rather cold. We are not, like yon sad-eyed Wes…
Nobody knows the world but me. The rest go to bed; I sit up and… I’m a better observer than any of… For I never look out till the twi… And never then without green glass…
I know not what among the grass th… Thy nature, nor thy substance, fai… Nor what to other eyes thou hast o… To send thine image through them t… But when I push the frosty leaves…
I love thy skies, thy sunny mists, Thy fields, thy mountains hoar, Thy wind that bloweth where it lis… Thy will, I love it more. I love thy hidden truth to seek
Lord, what is man That thou art mindful of him! Though in creation’s van, Lord, what is man! He wills less than he can,
A thousand houses of poesy stand a… They fill the earth and they fill… air; But to-night they have shut their… windows fair,
When thy heart, love-filled, grows… And eternal bliss looks nearer, Ask thy heart, nor show it favour, Is the gift or giver dearer? Love, love on; love higher, deeper…
When the snow is on the earth Birds and waters cease their mirth… When the sunlight is prevailing Even the night-winds drop their wa… On the earth when deep snows lie
A lang-backit, spilgie, fuistit au… Gangs a’ nicht rakin athort the wa… Wi’ a pock on his back, luikin hun… His crook-fingert han’ aye followi… He gathers up a’thing that canna b…
See how the storm of life ascends Up through the shadow of the world… Beyond our gaze the line extends, Like wreaths of vapour tempest-hur… Grasp tighter, brother, lest the s…
They were parted then at last? Was it duty, or force, or fate? Or did a worldly blast Blow-to the meeting-gate? An old, short story is this!
O Earth, Earth, Earth, I am dying for love of thee, For thou hast given me birth, And thy hands have tended me. I would fall asleep on thy breast