#Scottish #Scots
We met a strange old man to-day (As we strolled in the ruined plac… And he smiled to us as we came his… With gentle, wistful grace. ‘ Ah! Messieurs, it is very sad’
A DIGGER he digs in the dark In the naked remains of a wood, For his friend that lies stiff and… On his head hard blood for a hood: The digging is painful and slow,
I WANDER in the dawn to where t… I hear the songs of singing birds;… I hear the faint hum of flies; and… All things fill my soul with prais… I do not ask for dim cathedral pla…
O spirit of my Fate keen-eyed, fi… Thou lead’st me not to pleasant pl… Rich in gold of setting suns, wher… Slim sylphs in silken draperies, w… With luring elfish eyes as they fl…
A dead man dead for weeks Is sickening food for lover’s eye That seeks and ever seeks A fair one’s beauty ardently! Did that thing live of late?
Weak and faltering, drifting by, I pray Thee, Lord, take Thou the… No captain of my soul am I, Weak and faltering, drifting by! I do not ask Thee, Whither? Why?
Think not of me as facing death, Tattered, labouring for breath ; Rather think of one who strays Dreaming dreams by perfumed ways. Soon I may die, ah! true, ’tis tr…
I PRAY to God at night, Tho’ I know not where He is Nor what He is; Nor whether I am right: I pray to God at night.
Take thou this box, O Heart’s Desire; In it lies thy ring And more, my heart, bleeding ; Take out thy ring,
Lo! there she comes from afar Her eyes tender as moonlight Or the evening star On a purple night In Autumn! See!
It is not sweet to die for one’s c… I saw a dead man stinking in a tre… Where even flies would sicken with… Ah! is it sweet to die for one’s c… His face had rotted black as ebony…
WALKING among men like a phanto… With vacant eyes and listless air, Unmarked, befriended, jeered at, l… Only smiling in reply And drawing into self again
JUNE! the joyous, sun-filled mon… When roses, emblems of a heaven, c… Strange melodies in garden and in… With blithesome birds that sing in… Of English lanes; and thousand ot…
Let me not think of blood to-night… So doing It will be harder still to fight: Peace’s wooing Sucks blood making me white
I hear the dull, low thunder of th… Beyond the hills that doze uneasil… A sullen doomful growl that ever r… From end to end of the heavy freig… A friend of mine writes, squatted…
