#ScottishWriters
I know not how it is with you — I love the first and last, The whole field of the present vie… The whole flow of the past. One tittle of the things that are,
ABOUT the sheltered garden groun… The trees stand strangely still. The vale ne’er seemed so deep befo… Nor yet so high the hill. An awful sense of quietness,
THOU strainest through the mount… A most exiguously thin Burn. For all thy foam, for all thy din, Thee shall the pallid lake inurn, With well—a—day for Mr. Swin—Bur…
Birds all the summer day Flutter and quarrel Here in the arbour—like Tent of the laurel. Here in the fork
I read, dear friend, in your dear… Your life’s tale told with perfect… The river of your life, I trace Up the sun-chequered, devious bed To the far-distant fountain-head.
HAIL! Childish slaves of social… You had yourselves a hand in makin… How I could shake your faith, ye… If but I thought it worth the sha… I see, and pity you; and then
Where the bells peal far at sea Cunning fingers fashioned me. There on palace walls I hung While that Consuelo sung; But I heard, though I listened we…
Little Indian, Sioux, or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! don’t you wish that you were m… You have seen the scarlet trees
Who comes to—night? We open the d… Who comes? My bursting walls, can… The presences that now together th… Your narrow entry, as with flowers… As with the air of life, the breat…
Here all is sunny, and when the tr… Skims the green level of the lawn,… Dispetals roses; here the house is… Of kneaded brick and the plumed mo… Such clay as artists fashion and s…
THEY tell me, lady, that to—day On that unknown Australian strand… Some time ago, so far away— Another lady joined the band. She joined the company of those
The red room with the giant bed Where none but elders laid their h… The little room where you and I Did for awhile together lie And, simple, suitor, I your hand
CALL me not rebel, though { here… {in what I sing If I no longer hail thee { King a… { Lord and King I have redeemed myself with all I…
HERE in the quiet eve My thankful eyes receive The quiet light. I see the trees stand fair Against the faded air,
A naked house, a naked moor, A shivering pool before the door, A garden bare of flowers and fruit And poplars at the garden foot; Such is the place that I live in,