#ScottishWriters
I AM not brave As others seem to be ; But, like a knave, I cringe in misery: I cannot face
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…
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
It lay on the hill, A sack on its face, Collarless, Stiff and still, Its two feet bare
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?
I HEAR a rat scurrying At the end o’ the street Across the moon-lit stones, hurryi… To dingier retreat— A ruined house against the moon,
As one who was rebuked I stood In silence by the sea ; The stars were pale and faint—a br… Of angel eyes to me: The dim red flush of evening lay
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…
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,
THE hour is drowsed with things o… That round my tottering senses cre… Like subtle wandering scents, so r… They might ensweeten fairies’ hair… And I am walking in a glade
OUT, out into the wind-swept clea… Whose purple canopy, the sky, is b… With the soft splendour of the ful… And a thousand stars that mystical… Strange melodies upborne on the co…
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 HISSING Stove whose pale blu… Boils peeled potatoes pillaged wit… The night before from captured vil… The Germans were, not long ago ;… A wooden table ; and in glimmering…
If I should die—chatter only this… ‘A bullet flew by that did not mis… I did not give life up because of… That bullet came thro’, and that w… Don’t put up a cross where my dung…