Saint Godric and Other Poems

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Tweddell and sons, 1872 - 80 pages
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Page 33 - o' my cannie man. My cannie man has a kindly face, Smiles oft are on it, but never a frown; I my life's course would not wish to retrace, To marry a lord, or to wear a crown. Bound about, in and out, all the day long He goes with a merry laugh, jest, and
Page 31 - lea: Blithely the balmy breeze Plays 'mong the leafy trees, Placid the breast of the untroubled sea. Now the bee gaily toils, Gath'ring the luscious spoils, Culling the sweets of each open-leaf d flower; And 'mong the new-mown hay Labour the maidens gay ; Butterflies wanton from bower to bower. Happy o'er dale and down,
Page 25 - An" deave us wi' praises o" dandy or drab: Awa" wi' them a'—baith Jean, Nannie, an' Lizzie They're naething alangside o' Elsie M'Nab ! A fig for braw leddies wha ride in a carriage, An' scud thro' the toon in a fly or a cab : Their minds are aye bent on love, courtship, an
Page 48 - art nigh: Thy presence always gives a charm Of richer beauty to each scene, Where, pleased, I wander by thy side, And throne thee in my heart a queen. Far from the town now let us stray Once more unto the trysting tree; And make me happy whilst I tell My tales of heart-felt love to thee.
Page 12 - he, their tried one, from their midst had gone, Leaving behind a never-dying fame, Untarnished honour wedded to his name, For the good deeds which he in life had done. But peace be to his shade, now let him rest, Of all earth's sons he rank'd among the best.
Page 26 - demented for Elsie M'Nab. The lasses her weel-stockit mailin' envy her, An' still think on her wi' a sigh an' a sab : Each maid sees her lover despise an' gang by her : Nae lass can get joes noo for Elsie M'Nab! Though not slender-waisted, in face not a beauty,
Page 53 - were cast. At length he said, ' I'll to my father go, And at his feet repentant bend me low; Perhaps with kindness more than I deserve He 'mong his many slaves may let me serve.' And when his father saw him yet afar, ' Still kind,' said he,
Page 69 - light, While shining through night's broken clouds, When pale mists clothe the height, And chilling frost-winds from the north Sweep o'er the houseless plain, Whilst travellers from their journeys shrink, Drench'd by the falling rain. JESSIE WHITE. The glen is fu' o
Page 54 - And the remorse of guilty conscience felt; " Father, this Christmas night I've sought your door, With weary step, across the snow-clad moor, And pray'd to God that, for His dear Son's sake, You would upon my babe compassion take ; Protect its helpless innocence, and I Shall bless

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