#ScottishWriters
Gray clouds my heaven have covered… My sea ebbs fast, no more to flow; Ghastly and dry, my desert shore Parched, bare, unsightly things do… ’Tis thou, Lord, cloudest up my s…
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
‘They have no more wine!’ she said… But they had enough of bread; And the vessels by the door Held for thirst a plenteous store: Yes,
When the storm was proudest, And the wind was loudest, I heard the hollow caverns drinkin… When the stars were bright, And the ground was white,
‘Traveller, what lies over the hil… Traveller, tell to me: Tip-toe-high on the window-sill Over I cannot see.’ ‘My child, a valley green lies the…
I know what beauty is, for thou Hast set the world within my heart… Of me thou madest it a part; I never loved it more than now. I know the Sabbath afternoons;
Little Bo-Peep, she has lost her… And will not know where to find th… They are over the height and out o… Trailing their tails behind them! Little Bo-Peep woke out of her sl…
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?
Autumn clouds are flying, flying O’er the waste of blue; Summer flowers are dying, dying, Late so lovely new. Labouring wains are slowly rolling
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…
A tattered soldier, gone the glow… With wounds half healed, and sorel… Homeward I come, to claim no vict… I only faced the foe, and did not…
To God and man be simply true; Do as thou hast been wont to do; Bring out thy treasures, old and n… - Mean all the same when said to you…
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…
Who know thee, love: thy life be s… That, ere the year be o’er, Each one who loves thee now so muc… Even God, may love thee more!
’Tis the midnight hour; I heard The Abbey-bell give out the word. Seldom is the lamp-ray shed On some dwarfed foot-farer’s head In the deep and narrow street