Poems, Issue 665

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Edmonston & Douglas, 1873 - 224 pages

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Page 53 - And as it is appointed unto men once to die, and after that the judgment...
Page 124 - Sweet nurslings of the vernal skies, Bathed in soft airs, and fed with dew, What more than magic in you lies, To fill the heart's fond view? In childhood's sports, companions gay, In sorrow, on Life's downward way, How soothing ! in our last decay Memorials prompt and true. Relics ye are of Eden's bowers, As pure, as fragrant, and as fair, As when ye crowned the sunshine hours Of happy wanderers there.
Page 89 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist; A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist...
Page 169 - A port there is, enclos'd on either side, Where ships may rest, unanchor'd and untied, Till the glad mariners incline to sail, And the sea whitens with the rising gale. High at its head, from out the cavern'd rock, In living rills a gushing fountain broke : Around it, and above, for ever green The bushing alders form'da shady scene.
Page 104 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth, and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Page 137 - An' he sings aloud to his boys in blue, As his e'e 's upon Galloway's land. ' Unstent an' slack each reef and tack, Gie her sail , boys, while it may sit ; — She has roar'd through a heavier sea afore, An' she'll roar through a heavier yet. ' When landsmen sleep, or wake an...
Page 2 - Oh, the weary spinnin o't! Sittin spinnin, sittin spinnin, Vow but I am thrang, My wee pickle siller winnin, Croonin some auld sang. Leese me o my spinnin-wheel, Gie's us a' oor milk and meal; Weet or dry, or het or cauld, I maun spin till I grow auld. Spinnin, spinnin, ever spinnin, Never endin, aye beginnin, Hard at wark wi hand and fuit At the weary spinnin o't.
Page 155 - ... the untrodden snow ; They scaled the mountain's crest. They stemmed the torrent's flow. A hundred men and more, With sorrow on each face, Their solemn burthen bore Towards its resting-place. A hundred men and more, The hardiest of the clan, Their silent brother bore — His kinsmen led the van. Rose to the troubled sky, From hoary hill and heath, A wild and woeful cry— The coronach of death ! Gone is the wise, the just, Fallen is a stately tree, Dust has returned to dust — Ochhon ! ochonori...
Page 2 - The Weary Spinnin O't Sittin spinnin, sittin spinnin A' the lea-lang day, Hearin the bit burnie rinnin, And the bairns at play. I'm sweir to get my leg let loose, To do a turn about the hoose; Oh, amna I a waefu wife To spin awa my threid of life?
Page 1 - Oh ! fair fa' the gloaming when Mary is roaming, 'Mid braw luckan gowans and harebells sae blue ; Oh ! fair fa' the gloaming, where torrents are foaming, Adown the wild corries and craigs o' Ben Dhu ! Amang the rough copsewood, across the green paling, Through meadow-sweet, fair as the pearl-bosomed spray, Where birches in tears are their fragrance exhaling, As light as the roedeer she bounds on her way. Oh ! fair fa...

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