#ScottishWriters
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…
COME, here is adieu to the city And hurrah for the country again. The broad road lies before me Watered with last night’s rain. The timbered country woos me
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
Farewell, fair day and fading ligh… The clay-born here, with westward… Marks the huge sun now downward so… Farewell. We twain shall meet no… Farewell. I watch with bursting…
To see the infinite pity of this p… The mangled limb, the devastated f… The innocent sufferer smiling at t… A fool were tempted to deny his G… He sees, he shrinks. But if he g…
KNOW you the river near to Grez, A river deep and clear? Among the lilies all the way, That ancient river runs to—day From snowy weir to weir.
When the grass was closely mown, Walking on the lawn alone, In the turf a hole I found And hid a soldier underground. Spring and daisies came apace;
OVER the land is April, Over my heart a rose; Over the high, brown mountain The sound of singing goes. Say, love, do you hear me,
UP with the sun, the breeze arose… Across the talking corn she goes, And smooth she rustles far and wid… Through all the voiceful countrysi… Through all the land her tale she…
OUR Johnie’s deid. The mair’s th… He’s deid, an’ deid o’ Aqua—vitae… O Embro’, you’re a shrunken city, Noo Johnie’s deid! Tak hands, an’ sing a burial ditty
LOOK round: You see a little sup… But from my window, lo! great Cae… And the great dead themselves, wit… Bid you be merry and remember deat…
Up into the cherry tree Who should climb but little me? I held the trunk with both my hand… And looked abroad in foreign lands… I saw the next door garden lie,
For love of lovely words, and for… Of those, my kinsmen and my countr… Who early and late in the windy oc… To plant a star for seamen, where… The surfy haunt of seals and cormo…
Son of my woman’s body, you go, to… To taste the colour of love and th… From out of the dainty the rude, t… Eternally through the ages from th… The ten fingers and toes, and the…
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.