#Scots
WHAT are these leaves dark-spott… ‘A very holy herb.’ To what good use may I this herb… 'Press it on thy soul’s hurt.’ When herb unto the hurt I thus ap…
NOR did we lack our own right roy… The glory of our peaceful realm an… By no long years of restless trava… By no fierce wars or intrigues bla… Did he attain his superlofty place…
For I must sing of all I feel and… Waiting with Memnon passive near… Until the heavenly light doth dawn… And thrill my silence into mystic… From unknown realms the wind strea…
This field of stones, he said, May well call forth a sigh; Beneath them lie the dead, On them the living lie.
Mr. MacCall at Cleveland Hall, Sunday evening—date to fix— Fifteenth April, sixty-six, Speech reported and redacted By a fellow much distracted.
FROM the midst of the fire I fli… These arrows of fire to you: If they sing, and burn, and sting, You feel how I burn too; But if they reach you there
LAST evening’s huge lax clouds o… Grew dark and louring, burthened w… Which that long wind monotonous al… Swept clashing loud through Dream… Until my spirit in fatigue’s despi…
The wine of Love is music, And the feast of Love is song: And when Love sits down to the ba… Love sits long: Sits long and arises drunken,
To Alice and Hypatia Bradlaugh Who was Lilah? I am sure She was young and sweet and pure; With the forehead wise men love,- Here a lucid dawn above
FROM out the house I crept, The house which long had caged my… The mighty City in vast silence s… Dreaming away its tumult, toil, an… But sleep and sleep’s rich dreams…
LOVE’S DAWN Still thine eyes haunt me; in the… The dreamtime, the hushed stillnes… I see them shining pure and earnes… And here, all lonely, may I not a…
WHEN one is forty years and seve… Is seven and forty sad years old, He looks not onward for his Heave… The future is too blank and cold, Its pale flowers smell of graveyar…
Waking one morning In a pleasant land, By a river flowing Over golden sand:— Whence flow ye, waters,
The fire that filled my heart of o… Gave luster while it burned; Now only ashes gray and cold Are in its silence urned. Ah! better was the furious flame,
SHE was so good, and he was so ba… A very pretty time they had! A pretty time, and it lasted long: Which of the two was more in the w… He befouled in the slough of sin;
