#ScottishWriters
Lord, according to thy words, I have considered thy birds; And I find their life good, And better the better understood: Sowing neither corn nor wheat
Of whispering trees the tongues to… And sermons of the silent stone; To read in brooks the print so cle… Of motion, shadowy light, and tone… That man hath neither eye nor ear
Kiss me: there now, little Neddy, Do you see her staring steady? There again you had a chance of he… Didn’t you catch the pretty glance… See her nest! On any planet
A gentle wind, of western birth On some far summer sea, Wakes daisies in the wintry earth, Wakes hopes in wintry me. The sun is low; the paths are wet,
The fact which suggested this poem… Blue sky above, blue sea below, Far off, the old Nile’s mouth, ’Twas a blue world, wherein did bl… A soft wind from the south.
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…
Graut Euch nicht, Ihr lieben Leu… Vor dem ungeheuren Morgen; Wenn es kommt, es ist das Heute, Und der liebe Gott zu sorgen.
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,
’Tis we, not in thine arms, who we… The children in thy bosom laugh an…
Where did you come from, baby dear… Out of the everywhere into here. Where did you get those eyes so bl… Out of the sky as I came through. What makes the light in them spark…
When round the earth the Father’s… Have gently drawn the dark; Sent off the sun to fresher lands, And curtained in the lark; ’Tis sweet, all tired with glowing…
Were thou and I the white pinions On some eager, heaven-born dove, Swift would we mount to the old do… To our rest of old, my love! Were thou and I trembling strands
O Thou that walkest with nigh hop… Past the one harbour, built for th… Doth no stray odour from its table… No truant beam from fire or candle… At his wide door the host doth sta…
Star high, Baby low: ‘Twixt the two Wise men go; Find the baby,
Why dost thou want to sing When thou hast no song, my heart? If there be in thee a hidden sprin… Wherefore will no word start? On its way thou hearest no song,