The Moody Seer (Joanna Baillie Poems)
"THE sun shines in a cloudless sky,The lake is blue and still;Up, Flora! on thine errand hie,And climb the eyrie ...
"THE sun shines in a cloudless sky,The lake is blue and still;Up, Flora! on thine errand hie,And climb the eyrie ...
Up and down the village streetsStrange are the forms my fancy meets,For the thoughts and things of to-day are hid,And ...
Within my veins it beats And burns within my brain; For when the year is sad and sear I dream the dream again. Ah! ...
I.Of Februar the fiftene nichtFull lang before the dayis lichtI lay intill a tranceAnd then I saw baith Heaven and ...
WHAT a pure and chastened splendor,What a grace of joyance tender,Like to starlight or to moonlight,Melting into fairy Junelight,Sleeps my ...
(WRITTEN FOR MR. STRUTHER'S COLLECTION OF SONGS.)IT was on a morn, when we were thrang,The kirn it crooned, the cheese ...
Loud blaw the wild an' wintry win's, Wi' eerie howl an' angry thud,Wi' blatterin' rain, an' rattlin' hail, Loud roarin' thro' the ...
They call you cold New England, But underneath your snow Is blood as red as roses That in your gardens blow. The God ...
PROEMTHE Nights of song and story,With breath of frost and rain,Whose locks are wild and hoary,Whose fingers tap the paneWith ...
My eyes are full of lonely mirth: Reeling with want and worn with scars,For pride of every stone on earth, I shake ...
Whence flew the litter whereon he was laid?Of what heroic stuff was warlock Henry made?and questions of that sortperplexed the ...
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler ...
O wha will shoe my fu' fair foot?And wha will glove my hand?And wha will lace my middle jimp,Wi' the ...
We hae the crown without a head,The sceptre's but a hand, O;The ancient warlike royal blade,Might be a willow wand, ...
Child: reet ower t' brow O' Warlock Rise ...
If thine eye offend thee, pluck it outIf your tired unspeaking headRivet the dark with linear sight,Crazed by a warlock ...
The butcher knife goes in, first, at the top And carves out the round stemmed lid, The hole of which ...
Whence flew the litter whereon he was laid? Of what heroic stuff was warlock Henry made? and questions of that ...
NOW rosy May comes in wi' flowers, To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers; And now comes in the happy hours, ...
LAST May, a braw wooer cam doun the lang glen, And sair wi' his love he did deave me; I ...
THE SIMPLE Bard, rough at the rustic plough, Learning his tuneful trade from ev'ry bough; The chanting linnet, or the ...
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