Lie in my arms, Ailsie, my bairn,-- Lie in my arms and dinna greit; Long time been past syn I kenned you last, But my harte been allwais the same, my swete.
I built a castle in the air - A radiant thing made out of dreams; Love's dear desire its golden stair - Naught heavier than a hope was there - A thing of mist and rainbow gleams. ...
Not a breath of air Ruffles the bosom of this leafy glen. From the brook's margin, wide around, the trees Are steadfast as the rocks; the brook itself, Old as the hills that feed it from afar,...
I hear a song the wet leaves lisp When Morn comes down the woodland way; And misty as a thistle-wisp Her gown gleams windy gray; A song, that seems to say, "Awake! 'tis day!" ...
1746 The weary day rins down and dies, The weary night wears through: And never an hour is fair wi' flower, And never a flower wi' dew. I would the day were night for me,...
1716 There's nae mair lands to tyne, my dear, And nae mair lives to gie: Though a man think sair to live nae mair, There's but one day to die. For a' things come and a' days gane,...
On a little hill amid fertile fields lies a small cemetery, a Jewish cemetery behind a rusty gate, hidden by shrubs, abandoned and forgotten. Neither the sound of prayer...
Genius of Raphael! if thy wings Might bear thee to this glen, With faithful memory left of things To pencil dear and pen, Thou would'st forego the neighbouring Rhine, And all his majesty...
Oh, it's dreadful to think in a country like this With its chances for work, and enjoyment That a man like McGuinness was certain to miss Whenever he tried for employment. ...
"Come, come," said Tom's father, "at your time of life, "There's no longer excuse for thus playing the rake-- "It is time you should think, boy, of taking a wife"-- "Why, so it is, father--whose wife shall I take?"
Aw'm as rich as a Jew, tho aw havn't a meg, But awm free as a burd, an aw shak a loise leg; Aw've noa haase, an noa barns, soa aw nivver pay rent, But still aw feel rich, for awm bless'd wi content,...
Ten o'clock: the broken moon Hangs not yet a half hour high, Yellow as a shield of brass, In the dewy air of June, Poised between the vaulted sky And the ocean's liquid glass.
Jelaludin Muhammed Akbar, Guardian of Mankind, Moved his standards out of Delhi to Jaunpore of lower Hind, Where a mosque was to be builded, and a lovelier ne'er was planned;...