The rich man sat in his father's seat-- Purple an' linen, an' a'thing fine! The puir man lay at his yett i' the street-- Sairs an' tatters, an' weary pine!
Thy world is made to fit thine own, A nursery for thy children small, The playground-footstool of thy throne, Thy solemn school-room, Father of all! When day is done, in twilight's gloom,...
Cry out upon the crime, and then let slip The dogs of hate, whose hanging muzzles track The bloody secret; let the welkin crack Reverberating, while ye dance and skip...
A lang-backit, spilgie, fuistit auld carl Gangs a' nicht rakin athort the warl Wi' a pock on his back, luikin hungry an' lean, His crook-fingert han' aye followin his e'en:...
As I was walkin on the strand, I spied ane auld man sit On ane auld black rock; and aye the waves Cam washin up its fit. His lips they gaed as gien they wad lilt, But o' liltin, wae's me, was nane!...
Such guests as you, sir, were not in my mind When I my homely dish with care designed; 'Twas certain humble souls I would have fed Who do not turn from wholesome milk and bread:...
I know not what among the grass thou art, Thy nature, nor thy substance, fairest flower, Nor what to other eyes thou hast of power To send thine image through them to the heart;...
Seek not my name--it doth no virtue bear; Seek, seek thine own primeval name to find-- The name God called when thy ideal fair Arose in deeps of the eternal mind. ...
Go not forth to call Dame Sorrow From the dim fields of Tomorrow; Let her roam there all unheeded, She will come when she is needed; Then, when she draws near thy door, She will find God there before.
Oh, melancholy fragment of the night Drawing thy lazy web against the sun, Thou shouldst have waited till the day was done With kindred glooms to build thy fane aright, Sublime amid the ruins of the light!...