THE wind may blaw the lee—gang wa… And aye the lift be mirk an’ gray, An deep the moss and steigh the br… Where a’ maun gang — There’s still an hoor in ilka day

THE broad sun, The bright day: White sails On the blue bay: The far—farers

It’s rainin’. Weet’s the gairden… Weet the lang roads whaur gangrels… A maist unceevil thing o’ God In mid July — If ye’ll just curse the sneckdraw,…

NOT thine where marble—still and… Old statues share the tempered lig… And mock the uneven modern flight, But in the stream Of daily sorrow and delight

THOU strainest through the mount… A most exiguously thin Burn. For all thy foam, for all thy din, Thee shall the pallid lake inurn, With well—a—day for Mr. Swin—Bur…

Son of my woman’s body, you go, to… To taste the colour of love and th… From out of the dainty the rude, t… Eternally through the ages from th… The ten fingers and toes, and the…

I have a hoard of treasure in my b… The grange of memory steams agains… Full of my bygone lifetime’s garne… Old pleasures crowned with sorrow… Old sorrow grown a joy, old penanc…

I ASK good things that I detest, With speeches fair; Heed not, I pray Thee, Lord, my… But hear my prayer. I say ill things I would not say…

My Treasures These nuts, that I keep in the ba… Where all my tin soldiers are lyin… Were gathered in Autumn by nursie… In a wood with a well by the side…

Once only by the garden gate Our lips we joined and parted. I must fulfil an empty fate And travel the uncharted. Hail and farewell! I must arise,

In the highlands, in the country p… Where the old plain men have rosy… And the young fair maidens Quiet eyes; Where essential silence cheers and…

THE wind is without there and how… And the rain—flurries drum on the… Alone by the fireside with elbows… I can number the hours as they pas… Yet now, when to cheer me the cric…

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…

Tall as a guardsman, pale as the e… Who strides in strange apparel on… Rails for his breakfast? routs his… (Like boys escaped from school) wi… Kind and unkind, his Maker’s fina…

The human conscience has fled of l… domain of conduct for what I shoul… less congenial field of art: there… rage, and with special severity in… so that in every novel the letters…