#ScottishWriters
It is May, and the moon leans dow… Over a blossomy land; Leans from her window a lady white… With her cheek upon her hand. ‘Oh, why in the blue so misty, moo…
Cry out upon the crime, and then l… The dogs of hate, whose hanging mu… The bloody secret; let the welkin… Reverberating, while ye dance and… About the horrid blaze! or else ye…
It’s all very well, Said the Bell, To be the big Organ below! But the folk come and go, Said the Bell,
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,
In the ancient house of ages, See, they cannot rest! With a hope, which awe assuages, Tremble all the blest. For the son and heir eternal,
Through the unchanging heaven, as… Speed onward still, a strange wild… Fleet children of the waters! Glo… Whether the sun lift up his shinin… High throned at noontide and estab…
I would I were a child, That I might look, and laugh, and… And follow thee with running feet,… Be led through dark and wild! How I would hold thy hand,
’Tis a poor drizzly morning, dark… The cloud has fallen, and filled w… The chimneyed city; and the smoke… And spreads diluted in the cloud,… A black precipitate, on miry stree…
When the cock crows loud from the… And the moor-cock chirrs from the… What hear ye and see ye then, Ye children of air and ether? 1st Echo
Nature, to him no message dost tho… Who in thy beauty findeth not the… To gird himself more strongly for… Of night and darkness. Oh, what c… The woods, the valleys, and the mo…
Hark, hark, a voice amid the quiet… It is thy Duty waiting thee witho… Rise from thy knees in hope, the h… A hand doth pull thee-it is Provi… Open thy door straightway, and get…
The thousand streets of London gr… Repel all country sights; But bar not winds upon their way, Nor quench the scent of new-mown h… In depth of summer nights.
Be welcome, year! with corn and si… Make poor the body, but make rich… What man that bears his sheaves, g… Will heed the paint rubbed from hi… Nor leave behind thy fears and hol…
First came the red-eyed sun as I… He smote me on the temples and I… Casting the night aside and all it… And I would spurn my idleness, an… My own wild journey even like him,…
Whan Andrew frae Strathbogie gaed The lift was lowerin dreary, The sun he wadna raise his heid, The win’ blew laich and eerie. In’s pooch he had a plack or twa–