The Muses Threnodie: Sixth Muse (Henry Adamson Poems)
As we arrived at our Lady's Steps,Incontinent all men reversed their caps,Bidding us welcome home, and joining hand,They ask from ...
As we arrived at our Lady's Steps,Incontinent all men reversed their caps,Bidding us welcome home, and joining hand,They ask from ...
March month of 'many weathers' wildly comesIn hail and snow and rain and threatning humsAnd floods: while often at his ...
July the month of summers primeAgain resumes her busy timeScythes tinkle in each grassy dellWhere solitude was wont to dwellAnd ...
Maytime is to the meadows coming in,And cowslip peeps have gotten eer so big,And water blobs and all their golden ...
Again I ha'e ta'en to the clinkin' o' rhymes—It's no on the signs, it's the deeds o' the timesO' whilk ...
Nae mair, alas! nae mair I'll see Young mornin's gowden hairSpread ower the lift—the dawnin' sheen O' simmer mornin' fair!Nae mair the ...
I've juist been thinkin', neebour Johnie,Gif that the warl had mendit ony—Since, for the wurkin' man's disasters,We've got sae mony ...
Aifter the war, says the papers, they'll no be content at hame,The lads that hae feucht wi' death twae 'ear ...
A dark fir-wud hings ower the burn,That wannerin' jinks roun' monny a turn,Far doon oot through the lanely dell,By whilk ...
Ther's a Squire lives at th' Hall 'at's lukt up to, As if he wor ommost a god.He's hansum, he's rich, ...
Sing on, tha bonny burd, sing on, sing on; Aw connot sing;A claad hings ovver me, do what aw con Fresh troubles ...
The aul' kirkyard!—the aul' kirkyard!— Its crowdit graves an' mossy stanes;—I've coft me there a lanely grave, In whilk I houp to ...
Is there for honesty povertyThat hings his head, an' a' that;The coward slave - we pass him by,We dare be ...
O Jeanie, my woman! whar is't ye are gaun,Wi' a bairn on yer arm an' ane in yer haun?There's snaw ...
The Nith has a weird, weird soun' the nicht, As it swurls through the big black pool,An' the win' comin' ...
Gil Morrice was an erles son,His name it waxed wide:It was nae for his great riches,Nor zet was mickle pride;Bot ...
Oh! the bonny, bonny dell, whaur the yorlin sings,Wi' a clip o' the sunshine atween his wings;Whaur the birks are ...
Upon the rails I work away, The rails sae slim an' narrow,But in my heart this summer day I hear ...
Twa miles frae here, or maybe mair, A herd's hoose sits atween twa wuds,An' there a lassie bides as fair ...
IS there for honest Poverty That hings his head, an' a' that; The coward slave-we pass him by, We dare ...
Is there, for honest Poverty That hings his head, and a' that; The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare ...
© 2020 Inspirational Stories