#Scots
I cannot praise thee. By his inst… The master sits, and moves nor foo… For see the organ-pipes this, that… Leaning, o’erthrown, like wheat-st… I well could praise thee for a flo…
The stars are spinning their threa… And the clouds are the dust that f… And the suns are weaving them up For the day when the sleepers aris… The ocean in music rolls,
This is the sweetness of an April… The softness of the spring is on t… Of the old year. She has no natur… But something comes to her from fa… Out of the Past, and on her old d…
Sometimes, O Lord, thou lightest… A lamp that well might pharos all… Anon the light will neither rise n… Shrouded in danger gray the beacon… A pharos? Oh dull brain! poor dyi…
A Part Of The Story Omitted In… How sir Galahad despaired of find… Through the wood the sunny day Glimmered sweetly glad; Through the wood his weary way
‘And yet it moves!’ Ah, Truth, wh… When all for thee they racked each… Wert thou in heaven, and busy with… When those poor hands convulsed th… Art thou a phantom that deceives!…
O Lord, my God, how long Shall my poor heart pant for a bou… How long, O mighty Spirit, shall… The murmur of Truth’s crystal wat… From the deep caverns of their end…
‘What! you Dr. Doddridge’s dog, a… My little dog, who blessed you With such white toothy-pegs? And who was it that dressed you In such a lot of legs?
I.-BY THE CRADLE. Close her eyes: she must not peep! Let her little puds go slack; Slide away far into sleep: Sis will watch till she comes back…
Summer is come again. The sun is… And the soft wind is breathing. A… Is sparkling in thine eyes, and in… My soul is shining. Come; our day… Shall be to revel in unlikely thin…
I envy the tree-tops that shake so… In winds that fill them full of he… I envy every little cloud that sha… With unseen angels evening in the… I envy most the youngest stars tha…
Daylight fades away. Is the Lord at hand In the shadows gray Stealing on the land? Gently from the east
Lord, according to thy words, I have considered thy birds; And I find their life good, And better the better understood: Sowing neither corn nor wheat
Hark, in the steeple the dull bell… Over the furrows ill ploughed by… Hark the bird-babble, the loud lar… Hark, from the sky, what the proph… Hark, in the pines, the free Wind…
A Microcosm In Terza Rima Quiet I lay at last, and knew no… Whether I breathed or not, so wor… With the death-struggle. What was… Neither I met, nor turned from it…
