O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there, Would grace a summer queen: And as I rode by Dalton Hall, Beneath the turrets high,...
Shadows of the twilight falling On the mountain's brow, To each other birds are calling, In the leafy bough. Where the daisies are a-springing, And the cattle bells are ringing,...
Bring the bright garlands hither, Ere yet a leaf is dying; If so soon they must wither. Ours be their last sweet sighing. Hark, that low dismal chime! 'Tis the dreary voice of Time....
Bring your beauty, bring your laughter, bring even your fears, Bring the grief that is, the joy that was in other years, Bring again the happiness, bring love, bring tears. ...
'Twas up at the tree near the heid o' the glen I keppit a tinkler chiel, The cauld wind whistled his auld duds through, He was waesomely doon at the heel; But he made me free o' his company,...
It is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood,"...
Though I am an old man With my bones very brittle, Though I am a poor old man Worth very little, Yet I suck at my long pipe At peace in the sun, I do not fret nor much regret...
This is the quiet hour; the theaters Have gathered in their crowds, and steadily The million lights blaze on for few to see, Robbing the sky of stars that should be hers....
Broceliande! in the perilous beauty of silence and menacing shade, Thou art set on the shores of the sea down the haze of horizons untravelled, unscanned. Untroubled, untouched with the woes of this world...
One voice, one people, one in heart And soul, and feeling, and desire! Re-light the smouldering martial fire, Sound the mute trumpet, strike the lyre,...
With many a pause and oft reverted eye I climb the Coomb's ascent: sweet songsters near Warble in shade their wild-wood melody: Far off the unvarying Cuckoo soothes my ear....
Broken! It's only a ring - a plain, old ring, Worn down to a thread almost - Fling it away - the useless thing! What value now can it boast? - Fling it away! Yet stay! - oh stay...
On the Track of Grand Endeavour, on the long track out to Bourke, Past the Turn-Back, and past Howlong, and the pub at Sudden Jerk, Past old Bullock-Yoke and Bog Flat, and the 'Pinch' at Stick-to-me,...
There is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing Because it was your prayer...