#Scots
I say! hey! cousin there! I mustn… Yet you have a tail behind, and I… You pull, and I pull, though we d… You have less hardship, and I hav… II.
Who know thee, love: thy life be s… That, ere the year be o’er, Each one who loves thee now so muc… Even God, may love thee more!
O Father, I am in the dark, My soul is heavy-bowed: I send my prayer up like a lark, Up through my vapoury shroud, To find thee,
There was a girl that lost things– Nor only from her hand; She lost, indeed-why, most things, As if they had been sand! She said, 'But I must use them,
I dinna ken what’s come ower me! There’s a how whaur ance was a her… I never luik oot afore me, An’ a cry winna gar me stert; There’s naething nae mair to come…
December 28, 1879 A dim, vague shrinking haunts my s… My spirit bodeth ill– As some far-off restraining bank Had burst, and waters, many a rank…
There is a bellowing in me, as of… Unfleshed and visionless, mangling… With horrible convulse, as if it b… The cruel weight of worlds, but co… With the thick-dropping clods, and…
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…
Lord, I’m an auld man, An’ I’m deein! An’ do what I can I canna help bein Some feart at the thoucht!
What shall I be?-I will be a knig… Walled up in armour black, With a sword of sharpness, a hamme… And a spear that will not crack– So black, so blank, no glimmer of…
The warl it’s dottit wi’ hames As thick as gowans o’ the green, Aye bonnier ilk ane nor the lave To him wha there opent his een. An’ mony an’ bonny’s the hame
In the air why such a ringing? On the earth why such a droning? In the air the lark is singing; On the earth the wind is moaning. ‘I am blest, in sunlight swinging!…
Seek not my name-it doth no virtue… Seek, seek thine own primeval name… The name God called when thy idea… Arose in deeps of the eternal mind… When that thou findest, thou art s…
I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nanni… I’ yer goon and yer ribbons and a’… But I like ye better on Mondays,… Whan ye’re no sae buskit and braw. For whan we’re sittin sae douce,…
Forth to his study the sculptor go… In a mood of lofty mirth: ‘Now shall the tongues of my carpi… Confess what my art is worth! In my brain last night the vision…
