#ScottishWriters
I LOVE to be warm by the red fir… I love to be wet with rain: I love to be welcome at lamplit do… And leave the doors again.
In dreams, unhappy, I behold you… As heretofore: The unremembered tokens in your ha… Avail no more. No more the morning glow, no more…
Dear Andrew, with the brindled ha… Who glory to have thrown in air, High over arm, the trembling reed, By Ale and Kail, by Till and Twe… An equal craft of hand you show
FEAR not, dear friend, but freel… Though lesser lives should suffer.… A lesser life, that what is his of… Gladly would give for you, and wha… Step, without trouble, down the su…
Sonnet VIII As Daniel, bird—alone, in that fa… Kneeling in fervent prayer, with h… Turned thro’ the casement toward t… Or as untamed Elijah, that red br…
The moon has a face like the clock… She shines on thieves on the garde… On streets and fields and harbour… And birdies asleep in the forks of… The squalling cat and the squeakin…
THIS girl was sweeter than the s… And daintier than the lamb upon th… Or Curine oyster. She, the flower… Outshone the light of Erythraean… The teeth of India that with poli…
In the highlands, in the country p… Where the old plain men have rosy… And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and…
THE cock’s clear voice into the c… Where westward far I roam, Mounts with a thrill of hope, Falls with a sigh of home. A rural sentry, he from farm and f…
Come up here, O dusty feet! Here is fairy ready to eat. Here in my retiring room, Children, you may dine On the golden smell of broom
Fifteen men on the Dead Man’s Ch… Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum! Drink and the devil had done for t… Yo—ho—ho, and a bottle of rum!
I DO not fear to own me kin To the glad clods in which spring… Or to my brothers, the great trees… That speak with pleasant voices in… Loud talkers with the winds that p…
GO(D) knows, my Martial, if we t… To enjoy our days set wholly free; To the true life together bend our… And take a furlough from the false… No rich saloon, nor palace of the…
COME, my beloved, hear from me Tales of the woods or open sea. Let our aspiring fancy rise A wren’s flight higher toward the… Or far from cities, brown and bare…
Youth now flees on feathered foot Faint and fainter sounds the flute… Rarer songs of gods; and still Somewhere on the sunny hill, Or along the winding stream,