When the summer gave us a longer day, And the leaves were thickest, I went away: Like an isle, through dark clouds, of the infinite blue, Was that summer-ramble from London and you. ...
Uplifted is the stone And all mankind arisen! We are thy very own, We are no more in prison! What bitterest grief can stay Beside thy golden cup, When earth and life give way...
Whan Andrew frae Strathbogie gaed The lift was lowerin dreary, The sun he wadna raise his heid, The win' blew laich and eerie. In's pooch he had a plack or twa-- I vow he hadna mony,...
"And yet it moves!" Ah, Truth, where wert thou then When all for thee they racked each piteous limb? Wert thou in heaven, and busy with thy hymn When those poor hands convulsed that held thy pen?...
Dead art thou? No more dead than was the maid Over whose couch the saving God did stand-- "She is not dead but sleepeth," said, And took her by the hand!
Thee knowledge never from Life's pathway wiled,...
I said, I will arise and work some thing, Nor be content with growth, but cause to grow A life around me, clear as yes from no, That to my restless hand some rest may bring,...
Gray clouds my heaven have covered o'er; My sea ebbs fast, no more to flow; Ghastly and dry, my desert shore Parched, bare, unsightly things doth show.
"What maks ye sae canty, granny dear? Has some kin' body been for ye to speir? Ye luik as smilin an' fain an' willin As gien ye had fun a bonny shillin!"
I am weary, and very lonely, And can but think--think. If there were some water only That a spirit might drink--drink, And arise, With light in the eyes And a crown of hope on the brow,...
Of whispering trees the tongues to hear, And sermons of the silent stone; To read in brooks the print so clear Of motion, shadowy light, and tone-- That man hath neither eye nor ear...
Ance was a woman wha's hert was gret; Her love was sae dumb it was 'maist a grief; She brak the box--it's tellt o' her yet-- The bonny box for her hert's relief.
A tattered soldier, gone the glow and gloss, With wounds half healed, and sorely trembling knee, Homeward I come, to claim no victory-cross: I only faced the foe, and did not flee.
If thou art tempted by a thought of ill, Crave not too soon for victory, nor deem Thou art a coward if thy safety seem To spring too little from a righteous will; For there is nightmare on thee, nor until...
Summer is come again. The sun is bright, And the soft wind is breathing. Airy joy Is sparkling in thine eyes, and in their light My soul is shining. Come; our day's employ...