A Walk To Pamphy Linns (Alexander Anderson Poems)
We took a walk to Pamphy linns— Three other friends and I,Glad-hearted as when day begins With summer in the ...
We took a walk to Pamphy linns— Three other friends and I,Glad-hearted as when day begins With summer in the ...
He saw through his own soul.—TennysonAlexis grew up, and through all his youthRan dreams and splendours, as a summer bowLighting ...
The beings of the mind are not of clay; Essentially immortal, they createAnd multiply in us a brigher ray, And ...
A pure sweet life, that came upon our earth,Stay'd for a space, and then went back to heaven.I know not ...
What does the mighty engine say, Rolling along Swift and strong,Slow or fast as his driver may,Hour by ...
The Rev. John Donaldson, M.A., Kirkconnel. "Ave Atque Vale."A brooding quiet rests to-day On all the well-known hills around;Spring lingers ...
The little village sleeps to-day,Save but for children at their play.The white clouds show their snowy breastAbove Glen-Aylmer's grassy crest.And ...
"Forget the snorting steam and piston stroke,Forget the spreading of the hideous town."—The Earthly ParadiseYes, William Morris, it were well ...
J'aime Monsieur Francois Rabelais, that Rough, shoulder-shrugging, laughing Frenchman,Who struts about, broad, red, and fat, With humour for his constant ...
In Eden every flower is blown. Amen.—His own epitaphA happy time in my young life—when dreams Ran in sweet thrills ...
The years have sped since first we met, Here, in the city's toil and roar;Brief space in looking back, and ...
Those simple daisies which you view, Last year, when summer winds did wave,And clouds were white with sunshine, grew Upon ...
I take the letter up with anxious eyes, And open it with beating heart, and there,Within the folded sheet before ...
The great Lars Andersonicus, Who dwelleth in the South,Who hath the front of Grecian Jove And the heavy bearded mouth,He ...
I stood in a dream between Life and Death, And I whisper'd to the twain—"Now, which of you has the ...
Close thy Byron; open thy Goethe. —CarlyleSome half-a-dozen years or so, When life had yet no crown of iron,I took ...
I see him yet, that grey old man, Whose fiddle made many a winter nightPass by as only fiddlers can, ...
Beside the manse the river flows This sweet and tender summer day,While soft winds wanton round the rose, Or dally ...
So thanks again; in after years That down the slope of time will range,With fading hopes and many fears, And ...
I was alone with the Master, I was weary and sick with pain,For the fight with the passions had left ...
I will go into dark Gethsemane, In the night when none can see;I will kneel by the side of Christ ...
Why, hang it all, let life go by, It is but bubbles we pursue;They burst at last, and then we ...
I like to see in graceful row My modest pipes upon the wall,For there they make a dainty show, And ...
Over the meadow is singing A lark as loud as can be;He is lord of the air, and his music ...
Man and Poet True man and poet, in whose verse is seen The golden tints of autumn and the thought ...
If any song that I have sung Should rest a moment on the lips,Or linger kindly on the tongue Of ...
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