#ScottishWriters
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…
Behold, as goblins dark of mien And portly tyrants dyed with crime Change, in the transformation scen… At Christmas, in the pantomime, Instanter, at the prompter’s cough…
Sing clearlier, Muse, or evermore… Sing truer or no longer sing! No more the voice of melancholy J… To wake a weeping echo in the hill… But as the boy, the pirate of the…
I ASK good things that I detest, With speeches fair; Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my… But hear my prayer. I say ill things I would not say…
TO what shall I compare her, That is as fair as she? For she is fairer —fairer Than the sea. What shall be likened to her,
BY sunny market—place and street Wherever I go my drum I beat, And wherever I go in my coat of r… The ribbons flutter about my head. I seek recruits for wars to come —
When I was down beside the sea A wooden spade they gave to me To dig the sandy shore. My holes were empty like a cup. In every hole the sea came up
THE broad sun, The bright day: White sails On the blue bay: The far—farers
In mony a foreign pairt I’ve been… An’ mony an unco ferlie seen, Since, Mr. Johnstone, you and I Last walkit upon Cocklerye. Wi’ gleg, observant een, I pass’t
MAN sails the deep awhile; Loud runs the roaring tide; The seas are wild and wide; O’er many a salt, o’er many a dese… The unchained breakers ride,
I knew a silver head was bright be… I knew a queen of toil with a crow… Garland of valour and sorrow, of b… Life, that honours the brave, crow… The beauties of youth are frail, b…
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…
SINCE years ago for evermore My cedar ship I drew to shore; And to the road and riverbed And the green, nodding reeds, I s… Mine ignorant and last farewell:
THIS gloomy northern day, Or this yet gloomier night, Has moved a something high In my cold heart; and I, That do not often pray,
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