He brought a team from Inversnaid To play our Third Fifteen, A man whom none of us had played And very few had seen. He weighed not less than eighteen…

There is a village in a southern l… By rounded hills closed in on ever… The streets slope steeply to the m… Long lines of white-washed houses,… With roofs irregular, and steps of…

You found my life, a poor lame bir… That had no heart to sing, You would not speak the magic word To give it voice and wing. Yet sometimes, dreaming of that ho…

Song is not dead, although to-day Men tell us everything is said. There yet is something left to say… Song is not dead. While still the evening sky is red…

on returning to St. Andrews In the hard familiar horse-box I… Creeping back to old St. Andrews… Bearing bejants with their luggage… Which the porter, hot and tipless,…

Oh, will the footsteps never be do… The insolent feet Thronging the street, Forsaken now of the only one. The only one out of all the throng…

Sweetheart, that thou art fair I… More fair to me Than flowers that make the lovelie… To tempt the bee. When other girls, whose faces are,

There was a time when in your face There dwelt such power, and in you… I know not what of magic grace; They held me captive for a while. Ah, then I listened for your voic…

As I was walking down the street A week ago, Near Henderson’s I chanced to mee… A man I know. His name is Alexander Bell,

Love, when the present is become t… And dust has covered all that now… When many a fame has faded out of… And many a later fame is fading fa… If then these songs of mine might…

In Algebra, if Algebra be ours, x and x2 can ne’er be equal powers… Unless x=1, or none at all. It is the little error in the sum, That by and by will make the answe…

After the melting of the snow Divines depart and April comes; Examinations nearer grow After the melting of the snow; The grinder wears a face of woe,

My soul is like a prisoned lark, That sings and dreams of liberty, The nights are long, the days are… Away from home, away from thee! My only joy is in my dreams,

Oh, who may this dead warrior be That to his grave they bring? ’Tis William, Duke of Normandy, The conqueror and king. Across the sea, with fire and swor…

Oh for the nights when we used to… In the firelight’s glow or flicker… With the gas turned low and our pi… And the air fast growing thicker; When you, enthroned in the big arm…