#Scots #XIXCentury
AS swallows turning backward When half—way o’er the sea, At one word’s trumpet summons They came again to me — The hopes I had forgotten
In rigorous hours, when down the i… The redbreast looks in vain For hips and haws, Lo, shining flowers upon my window… The silver pencil of the winter dr…
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…
The embers of the day are red Beyond the murky hill. The kitchen smokes: the bed In the darkling house is spread: The great sky darkens overhead,
Even in the bluest noonday of Jul… There could not run the smallest b… But all the quarter sounded like a… And in the chequered silence and a… The hum of city cabs that sought t…
HERE lies Erotion, whom at six y… Fate pilfered. Stranger (when I t… Who shall succeed me in my rural f… To this small spirit annual honour… Bright be thy hearth, hale be thy…
I saw you toss the kites on high And blow the birds about the sky; And all around I heard you pass, Like ladies’ skirts across the gra… O wind, a—blowing all day long,
All night long and every night, When my mama puts out the light, I see the people marching by, As plain as day before my eye. Armies and emperor and kings,
Summer fading, winter comes— Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Window robins, winter rooks, And the picture story—books. Water now is turned to stone
At evening when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing… And do not play at anything. Now, with my little gun, I crawl
COME, my beloved, hear from me Tales of the woods or open sea. Let our aspiring fancy rise A wren’s flight higher toward the… Or far from cities, brown and bare…
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…
I LOVE to be warm by the red fir… I love to be wet with rain: I love to be welcome at lamplit do… And leave the doors again.
For the long nights you lay awake And watched for my unworthy sake: For your most comfortable hand That led me through the uneven lan… For all the story—books you read:
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…
