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an'a auld birds birks blaw blue bonnie Border braes comes countrie dark dear deep Deevilock Deil doon doun dreamed eyes face fair flowers frae gaed gang glen green grey guid hame hand hear heard heart hills I'll it's Jean John kind land lang late leave light live look Loons Lord mair maun meet morning never night o'er ower pipers played R. L. STEVENSON rest rise Robert rose sall sang says Scots Scott Scottish seen shine sing sleep Spring stand star stream sweet syne tears tell thee There's thing thou thought Till tree true turned voice wasna weary weel weep wild wind wooing Yarrow young
Pagina 25 - I wish I were where Helen lies; Night and day on me she cries; And I am weary of the skies, Since my Love died for me.
Pagina 84 - O'er Roslin all that dreary night A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam, 'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light, And redder than the bright moon-beam. It glared on Roslin's castled rock, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ; 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak, And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.
Pagina 89 - Oh ! young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Pagina 60 - For auld lang syne, my Dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, For auld lang syne — We twa hae run about the braes, And pu't the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot, Sin auld lang syne.
Pagina 97 - But, present still, though now unseen ; When brightly shines the prosperous day, Be thoughts of THEE a cloudy screen To temper the deceitful ray. And oh, when stoops on Judah's path In shade and storm the frequent night, Be THOU long-suffering, slow to wrath, A burning, and a shining light. Our harps we left by Babel's streams, The tyrant's jest ; the gentile's scorn ; No censer round our altar beams, And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.
Pagina 62 - MY JO. JOHN Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent ; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent ; But now your brow is beld, John Your locks are like the snaw ; But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi...
Pagina 57 - O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field, Unseen, alane. There, in thy scanty mantle clad, Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Pagina 56 - Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonnie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie Lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Pagina 71 - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I : And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun : I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o
Pagina 55 - An' naething, now, to big a new ane, O' foggage green ! An' bleak December's winds ensuin', Baith snell and keen ! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' weary winter comin' fast, An' cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, 'Till, crash ! the cruel coulter past Out thro