The sun is not a—bed, when I At night upon my pillow lie; Still round the earth his way he t… And morning after morning makes. While here at home, in shining day…

With half a heart I wander here As from an age gone by A brother yet—though young in year… An elder brother, I. You speak another tongue than mine…

Soon our friends perish, Soon all we cherish Fades as days darken —goes as flow… Soon in December Over an ember,

THE UNFATHOMABLE sea, and t… The deeds of heroes and the crimes… Dispart us; and the river of event… Has, for an age of years, to east… More widely borne our cradles. Th…

I KNOW not how, but as I count The beads of former years, Old laughter catches in my throat With the very feel of tears.

When I am grown to man’s estate I shall be very proud and great, And tell the other girls and boys Not to meddle with my toys.

Dear Thamson class, whaure’er I g… It aye comes ower me wi’ a spang: “Lordsake! They Thamson lads - (… Or else lord mend them!) - An’ that Wanchancy annual sang

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…

In all the grove, nor stream nor b… Nor aught beside my blows was hear… And the woods wore their noonday d… The glory of their silentness. From the island summit to the seas…

When at home alone I sit And am very tired of it, I have just to shut my eyes To go sailing through the skies— To go sailing far away

The infinite shining heavens Rose and I saw in the night Uncountable angel stars Showering sorrow and light. I saw them distant as heaven,

Say not of me, that weakly I decl… The labours of my siers, and fled… The towers we founded and the lamp… To play at home with paper like a… But rather say: In the afternoon…

Late lies the wintry sun a—bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy—head; Blinks but an hour or two; and the… A blood—red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the ski…

SO live, so love, so use that fra… That when the dark hand of the shi… Shall one from other, wife or husb… The poor survivor may not weep and…

Late in the nicht in bed I lay, The winds were at their weary play… An’ tirlin’ wa’s an’ skirlin’ wae Through Heev’n they battered; - On-ding o’ hail, on-blaff o’ spray…