Poems, Narrative and Lyrical

W. D. Ticknor, 1844 - 216 páginas

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Página 40 - They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears, And sair and sick I pine, As memory idly summons up The blithe blinks o
Página 42 - In the silentness o' joy, till baith Wi' very gladness grat. Ay, ay, dear Jeanie Morrison, Tears trinkled doun your cheek Like dew-beads on a rose, yet nane Had ony power to speak! That was a time, a blessed time. When hearts were fresh and young When freely gushed all feelings forth, Unsyllabled, — unsung ! 1 marvel, Jeanie Morrison, Gin I hae been to thee As closely twined wi...
Página 164 - Can make a scoff of its mean joys, and vent a nobler mirth. But soft ! mine ear upcanght a sound, from yonder wood it came ! The spirit of the dim green glade did breathe his own glad name ; — Yes, it is he ! the hermit bird, that apart from all his kind, Slow spells his beads monotonous to the soft western wind; Cuckoo! Cuckoo!
Página 39 - IVe wandered east, I've wandered west, Through mony a weary way; But never, never can forget The luve o' life's young day ! The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en May weel be black gin Yule; But blacker fa' awaits the heart Where first fond luve grows cule. 0 dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, The thochts o" bygane years Still fling their shadows ower my path And blind my een wi...
Página 179 - Then mounte ! then mounte, brave gallants, all, And don your helmes amaine ; Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honour, call Us to the field againe. No shrewish teares shall fill our eye When the sword-hilt's in our hand...
Página 164 - ... love, the breeze is sweet and bland ; The daisy and the buttercup are nodding courteously; It stirs their blood with kindest love, to bless and welcome thee ; And mark how with thine own thin locks — they now are silvery gray — That blissful breeze is wantoning, and whispering, "Be gay!
Página 41 - The burn sang to the trees, And we, with Nature's heart in tune, Concerted harmonies ; And on the knowe abune the burn For hours thegither sat In the silentness o' joy, till baith Wi
Página 40 - Cheek touchin' cheek, loof lock'd in loof, What our wee heads could think ? When baith bent doun ower ae braid page, Wi' ae buik on our knee, Thy lips were on thy lesson, but My lesson was in thee. Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads, How cheeks brent red wi' shame, Whene'er the scule-weans, laughin' said, We cleek'd thegither hame ? And mind ye o...
Página 195 - And long imprisoned feelings fast In deep sobs came. Farewell ! Would that our love had been the love That merest worldlings know, When passion's draught to our doomed lips Turns utter woe, And our poor dream of happiness Vanishes so...
Página 100 - THE Water ! the Water ! The joyous brook for me, That tuneth through the quiet night Its ever-living glee. The Water ! the Water ! That sleepless, merry heart, Which gurgles on unstintedly, And loveth to impart To all around it some small measure Of its own most perfect pleasure. The Water! the Water!

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