Paisley Poets: With Brief Memoirs of Them, and Selections from Their Poetry, Volume 1

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J.&J. Cook, 1889 - English poetry
 

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Page 171 - Emblem, methought, of the departed soul ! To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given ; And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onward to the golden gates of heaven, Where, to the eye of Faith, it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies.
Page 330 - Night on the waves ! — and the moon is on high, Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky, Treading its depths in the power of her might, And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light...
Page 94 - Dumblane. How sweet is the brier, wi' its saft fauldin' blossom ! And sweet is the birk, wi' its mantle o' green; Yet sweeter and fairer, and dear to this bosom, Is lovely young Jessie, the flower o
Page 302 - 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
Page 171 - O'er the still radiance of the lake below ; Tranquil its spirit seemed and floated slow ; Even in its very motion there was rest ; While every breath of eve that chanced to blow Wafted the traveller to the beauteous west.
Page 300 - 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...
Page 301 - 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...
Page 169 - To whom belongs this valley fair, That sleeps beneath the filmy air, Even like a living thing ? Silent, — as infant at the breast, — Save a still sound that speaks of rest, That streamlet's murmuring ! The heavens appear to love this vale ; Here clouds with scarce-seen motion sail, Or 'mid the silence lie. By that blue arch, this beauteous earth Mid evening's hour of dewy mirth Seems bound unto the sky.
Page 302 - I've borne a weary lot; But in my wanderings, far or near, Ye never were forgot. The fount that first burst frae this heart Still travels on its way; And channels deeper, as it rins, The luve o' life's young day. O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Since we were sindered young, I've never seen your face, nor heard The music o...
Page 217 - O LOGAN, sweetly didst thou glide That day I was my Willie's bride ; And years sinsyne hae o'er us run, Like Logan to the simmer sun. But now thy flow'ry banks appear Like drumlie winter, dark and drear, While my dear lad maun face his faes, Far, far frae me and Logan Braes. Again the merry month o...

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