The Pastoral, Or Lyric Muse Of Scotland. Canto Third. (Hector MacNeill Poems)
The night blew cauld thro' snaw and sleet, Loud rair'd the blast wi' deaf'ning din;A voice cam' sad, yet mournfu' sweet; "Unbar ...
The night blew cauld thro' snaw and sleet, Loud rair'd the blast wi' deaf'ning din;A voice cam' sad, yet mournfu' sweet; "Unbar ...
Morning.Out from the hut at break of day,And up the hills in the dawning grey;With the young wind flowingFrom the ...
HOW lightly men can love, how soon forget! I said--yet some there be not false or fickle: For one, the ...
It is truly as lucid as lucid can be; It is plain as the nose on your faceThough the tactics ...
I like ye weel upo Sundays, Nannie,I' yer goon and yer ribbons and a';But I like ye better on Mondays, ...
When I have struggled through three hundred years of Roman history, and hastened o'erSome French play-(though I have my private ...
In these days, every mother's son or daughter Writes verse, which no one reads except the writer, ...
WHEN chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neibors, neibors, meet; As market days are wearing late, And folk begin ...
'TWAS 1 in that place o' Scotland's isle, That bears the name o' auld King Coil, Upon a bonie day ...
I Let others sing of gold and gear, the joy of being rich; But oh, the days when I was ...
NOT thine where marble-still and white Old statues share the tempered light And mock the uneven modern flight, But in ...
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