#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,
The silence of traitorous feet! The silence of close-pent rage! The roar, and the sudden heart-bea… And the shot through the true hear… The truest heart of the age!
O do not leave me, mother, lest I… Till I forget, be near me in that… The mother’s presence leads her do… Leaves her contented there. O do not leave me, lover, brother,…
I took it for a bird of prey that… High over ocean, battled mount, an… ’Twas but a bird-moth, which with… The invisibly obstructing window-p… Better than eagle, with far-toweri…
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
I woke at midnight, and my heart, My beating heart, said this to me: Thou seest the moon, how calm and… The world is fair by day and night… But what is that to thee?
There was an auld fisher, he sat b… An’ luikit oot ower the sea; The bairnies war playin, he smil’t… But the tear stude in his e’e. An’ it’s-oh to win awa, awa!
A little bird sat on the edge of h… Her yellow-beaks slept as sound as… Day-long she had worked almost wit… And had filled every one of their… Her own she had filled just over-f…
Better to smell the violet Than sip the glowing wine; Better to hearken to a brook Than watch a diamond shine. Better to have a loving friend
My wife contrived a fleecy thing Her husband to infold, For ’tis the pride of woman still To cover from the cold: My daughter made it a new text
In that high country whither thou… Right noble friend, thou walkest w… The gathered great of many a hundr… Few are left like thee-few, I say… Else were thy England soon a Baby…
I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nanni… I’ yer goon and yer ribbons and a’… But I like ye better on Mondays,… Whan ye’re no sae buskit and braw. For whan we’re sittin sae douce,…
Ah, holy midnight of the soul, When stars alone are high; When winds are resting at their go… And sea-waves only sigh! Ambition faints from out the will;
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…
Doon cam the sunbeams, and up gaed… As we spangt ower the road at ten… The horse wasna timmer, the cart w… And little cared we for the burn o… We war young, and the hert in’s wa…