#ScottishWriters
Back shining from the pane, the fi… Seems outside in the snow: So love set free from love’s desir… Lights grief of long ago. The dark is thinned with snow-shee…
They say that lonely sorrows do no… More gently, I think, sorrows tog… A new one joins the funeral glidin… With less of jar than when it brea… Grief swages grief, and joy doth j…
Chained is the Spring. The Night… Blows over the hard earth; Time is not more confused and cold… Nor keeps more wintry mirth. Yet blow, and roll the world about…
The times are changed, and gone th… When the high heavenly land, Though unbeheld, quite near them l… And men could understand. The dead yet find it, who, when he…
The witch lady walked along the st… Heard a roaring of the sea, On the edge of a pool saw a dead m… Good thing for a witch lady! Lightly she stepped across the roc…
Is there a secret Joy, that may n… For every flower that ends its lit… For every child that groweth up to… For every captive bird a cage doth… For every aching eye that went to…
LORD, what I once had done with… Had I been from the first true to… Grant me, now old, to do-with bett… And humbler heart, if not the brai… So wilt thou, in thy gentleness an…
‘Hear’st thou that sound upon the… Said the youth softly, as outstret… Where for an hour outstretched he… Softly, yet with some token of dis… Answered the maiden: ‘It is but t…
Tumultuous rushing o’er the outstr… A wildered maze of comets and of s… The blood of changeless God that… With quick diastole up the immorta… A phantom host that moves and work…
Love alone is great in might, Makes the heavy burden light, Smooths rough ways to weary feet, Makes the bitter morsel sweet: Love alone is strength!
With us there is no gray fearing, With us no aching for lack! For the morn it is always nearing, And the night is at our back. At times a song will fall dumb,
Now have I grown a sharpness and… Unto my future nights, and I will… Sheer through the ebon gates that… On every set of day; or as a sledg… Drawn over snowy plains; where not…
They come to thee, the halt, the m… The devil-torn, the sick, the sore… Thy heart their well of life they… Thine ear their open door. Ah, who can tell the joy in Pales…
Now far from my old northern land, I live where gentle winters pass; Where green seas lave a wealthy st… And unsown is the grass ;
I am a bubble Upon thy ever-moving, resting sea: Oh, rest me now from tossing, tres… Take me down into thee. Give me thy peace.