#ScottishWriters
Over the borders, a sin without pa… Breaking the branches and crawling… Out through the breach in the wall… Down by the banks of the river we… Here is a mill with the humming of…
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
LOVE —what is love? A great and… Wrung hands; and silence; and a lo… Life —what is life? Upon a moorla… To see love coming and see love de…
My body which my dungeon is, And yet my parks and palaces: — Which is so great that there I go All the day long to and fro, And when the night begins to fall
NOW when the number of my years Is all fulfilled, and I From sedentary life Shall rouse me up to die, Bury me low and let me lie
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,
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…
Let now your soul in this substant… Some anchor strike. Be here the… This spectacle immutably from now The picture in your eye; and when… And the green scene goes on the in…
AS Love and Hope together Walk by me for a while, Link—armed the ways they travel For many a pleasant mile — Link—armed and dumb they travel,
My house, I say. But hark to the… That make my roof the arena of the… That gyre about the gable all day… And fill the chimneys with their m… Our house, they say; and mine, the…
HAIL, guest, and enter freely! A… Is, for your momentary visit, your… Who welcome you are but the guests… And know not our departure.
T last she comes, O never more In this dear patience of my pain To leave me lonely as before, Or leave my soul alone again.
IF I have faltered more or less In my great task of happiness; If I have moved among my race And shown no glorious morning face… If beams from happy human eyes
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:
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,