My gift would find thee fast asleep, And arise a dream in thee; A violet sky o'er the roll and sweep Of a purple and pallid sea; And a crescent moon from my sky should creep In the golden dream to thee....
Along the tops of all the yellow trees, The golden-yellow trees, the sunshine lies; And where the leaves are gone, long rays surprise Lone depths of thicket with their brightnesses;...
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!"
'Tis a little room, my friend; A baby-walk from end to end; All the things look sadly real, This hot noontide's Unideal. Seek not refuge at the casement, There's no pasture for amazement...
One is a slow and melancholy maid; I know riot if she cometh from the skies Or from the sleepy gulfs, but she will rise Often before me in the twilight shade,...
O wind of God, that blowest in the mind, Blow, blow and wake the gentle spring in me; Blow, swifter blow, a strong warm summer wind, Till all the flowers with eyes come out to see;...