Braid Claith (Robert Fergusson Poems)
Ye wha are fain to hae your nameWrote in the bonny book of fame,Let merit nae pretension claimTo laurel'd wreath,But ...
Ye wha are fain to hae your nameWrote in the bonny book of fame,Let merit nae pretension claimTo laurel'd wreath,But ...
Is it his daily toil that wringsFrom the slave's bosom that deep sigh?Is it his niggard fare that bringsThe tear ...
Raised to account for the late return of a Messenger.The sun went down in wrath;The skies foam'd brass, and soon ...
I had not tried the wine that ancients made,And had not heard of Ossian's old tune;So why, on earth, I ...
I had not tried the wine that ancients made,And had not heard of Ossian's old tune;So why, on earth, I ...
FOR the poor body that I ownI could weep many a tear:The days have stolen flesh and bone,And left a ...
"Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound,We stumbled on a stationary voice,And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from the palace' ...
Burn on, sweet fire, for I live by that fuelWhose smoke is as an incense to my soul.Each sigh prolongs ...
Little cramped words scrawling all over the paperLike draggled fly's legs,What can you tell of the flaring moonThrough the ...
Short of stature, large of limb, Burly face and russet beard, All the women stared at him, When in Iceland ...
Welcome, my old friend, Welcome to a foreign fireside, While the sullen gales of autumn Shake the windows. The ungrateful ...
We were born of tea, our mum could drink fourteen cups a day, an awesome feat to try to rationalise, ...
Matron! the children of whose love, Each to his grave, in youth have passed, And now the mould is heaped ...
GIFT from the cold and silent Past! A relic to the present cast, Left on the ever-changing strand Of shifting ...
Now, scarce three paces measured from the mound, We stumbled on a stationary voice, And 'Stand, who goes?' 'Two from ...
There will be a singing in your heart, There will be a rapture in your eyes; You will be a ...
1 You, once a belle in Shreveport, with henna-colored hair, skin like a peachbud, still have your dresses copied from ...
Two, of course there are two. It seems perfectly natural now-- The one who never looks up, whose eyes are ...
I would bathe myself in strangeness: These comforts heaped upon me, smother me! I burn, I scald so for the ...
Come with me, I said, and no one knew where, or how my pain throbbed, no carnations or barcaroles for ...
That Providence which had so long the care Of Cromwell's head, and numbred ev'ry hair, Now in its self (the ...
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