169. Address to Wm. Tytler, Esq., of Woodhouselee

Related poetry:

1. 146. Address to Edinburgh EDINA! Scotia’s darling seat! All hail thy palaces and tow’rs, Where once, beneath a Monarch’s feet, Sat Legislation’s sov’reign pow’rs: From marking wildly scatt’red flow’rs, As on the banks of Ayr I stray’d, And singing, lone, the lingering hours, I shelter in they honour’d shade. Here Wealth still swells the golden tide, As busy Trade […]...
2. 95. Address to the Unco Guid O YE wha are sae guid yoursel’, Sae pious and sae holy, Ye’ve nought to do but mark and tell Your neibours’ fauts and folly! Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill, Supplied wi’ store o’ water; The heaped happer’s ebbing still, An’ still the clap plays clatter. Hear me, ye venerable core, As counsel […]...
3. 147. Address to a Haggis FAIR fa’ your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o’ the pudding-race! Aboon them a’ ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm: Weel are ye wordy o’a grace As lang’s my arm. The groaning trencher there ye fill, Your hurdies like a distant hill, Your pin was help to mend a mill In time o’need, […]...
4. 111. Address to Beelzebub LONG life, my Lord, an’ health be yours, Unskaithed by hunger’d Highland boors; Lord grant me nae duddie, desperate beggar, Wi’ dirk, claymore, and rusty trigger, May twin auld Scotland o’ a life She likes-as butchers like a knife. Faith you and Applecross were right To keep the Highland hounds in sight: I doubt na! […]...
5. 138. Address to the Toothache MY curse upon your venom’d stang, That shoots my tortur’d gums alang, An’ thro’ my lug gies mony a twang, Wi’ gnawing vengeance, Tearing my nerves wi’ bitter pang, Like racking engines! When fevers burn, or argues freezes, Rheumatics gnaw, or colics squeezes, Our neibor’s sympathy can ease us, Wi’ pitying moan; But thee-thou hell […]...
6. 84. Address to the Deil O THOU! whatever title suit thee- Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie, Wha in yon cavern grim an’ sootie, Clos’d under hatches, Spairges about the brunstane cootie, To scaud poor wretches! Hear me, auld Hangie, for a wee, An’ let poor damned bodies be; I’m sure sma’ pleasure it can gie, Ev’n to a deil, […]...
7. 527. Song-Address to the Woodlark O STAY, sweet warbling woodlark, stay, Nor quit for me the trembling spray, A hapless lover courts thy lay, Thy soothing, fond complaining. Again, again that tender part, That I may catch thy melting art; For surely that wad touch her heart Wha kills me wi’ disdaining. Say, was thy little mate unkind, And heard […]...
8. 343. Address to the shade of Thomson WHILE virgin Spring by Eden’s flood, Unfolds her tender mantle green, Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, Or tunes Eolian strains between. While Summer, with a matron grace, Retreats to Dryburgh’s cooling shade, Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace The progress of the spiky blade. While Autumn, benefactor kind, By Tweed erects his aged […]...
9. 440. Address spoken by Miss Fontenelle STILL anxious to secure your partial favour, And not less anxious, sure, this night, than ever, A Prologue, Epilogue, or some such matter, ‘Twould vamp my bill, said I, if nothing better; So sought a poet, roosted near the skies, Told him I came to feast my curious eyes; Said, nothing like his works was […]...
10. Sonnet XXVII: Is Not Love Here Is not Love here as ’tis in other climes, And differeth it, as do the several nations? Or hath it lost the virtue with the times, Or in this island altereth with the fashions? Or have our passions lesser power than theirs, Who had less art them lively to express? Is Nature grown less powerful […]...
11. 190. Song-Lady Onlie, Honest Luckie A’ THE lads o’ Thorniebank, When they gae to the shore o’ Bucky, They’ll step in an’ tak a pint Wi’ Lady Onlie, honest Lucky. Chorus.-Lady Onlie, honest Lucky, Brews gude ale at shore o’ Bucky; I wish her sale for her gude ale, The best on a’ the shore o’ Bucky. Her house sae […]...
12. Infant Sorrow My mother groand! my father wept, Into the dangerous world I leapt: Helpless, naked, piping loud: Like a fiend hid in a cloud. Struggling in my fathers hands: Striving against my swaddling bands: Bound and weary I thought best To sulk upon my mother’s breast....
13. Chicago Weather To-day, fair Thisbe, winsome girl! Strays o’er the meads where daisies blow, Or, ling’ring where the brooklets purl, Laves in the cool, refreshing flow. To-morrow, Thisbe, with a host Of amorous suitors in her train, Comes like a goddess forth to coast Or skate upon the frozen main. To-day, sweet posies mark her track, While […]...
14. Parting Address From Z. Z. To A. E O weep not, love! each tear that springs In those dear eyes of thine, To me a keener suffering brings Than if they flowed from mine. And do not droop! however drear The fate awaiting thee. For my sake, combat pain and care, And cherish life for me! I do not fear thy love will […]...
15. An Address to Shakespeare Immortal! William Shakespeare, there’s none can you excel, You have drawn out your characters remarkably well, Which is delightful for to see enacted upon the stage For instance, the love-sick Romeo, or Othello, in a rage; His writings are a treasure, which the world cannot repay, He was the greatest poet of the past or […]...
16. An Address to the New Tay Bridge Beautiful new railway bridge of the Silvery Tay, With your strong brick piers and buttresses in so grand array, And your thirteen central girders, which seem to my eye Strong enough all windy storms to defy. And as I gaze upon thee my heart feels gay, Because thou are the greatest railway bridge of the […]...
17. An Address to the Rev. George Gilfillan All hail to the Rev. George Gilfillan of Dundee, He is the greatest preacher I did ever hear or see. He is a man of genius bright, And in him his congregation does delight, Because they find him to be honest and plain, Affable in temper, and seldom known to complain. He preaches in a […]...
18. Hymn 159 An unconverted state; or, Converting grace. [Great King of glory and of grace, We own, with humble shame, How vile is our degen’rate race, And our first father’s name.] From Adam flows our tainted blood, The poison reigns within; Makes us averse to all that’s good, And willing slaves to sin. [Daily we break thy […]...
19. 1819 New Year's Carrier's Address Believe me, dear patrons, I have wand’red too far, Without any compass, or planet or star; My dear native village I scarcely can see So I’ll hie to my hive like the tempest-tost bee. Hail home! sacred home! to my soul ever dear; Abroad may be wonders but rapture is here. My future ambition will […]...
20. Farewell Address at the Argyle Hall Fellow Citizens of Dundee. I now must bid farewell to ye. For I am going to London far away. But when I will return again I cannot say. Farewell! Farewell! to the bonnie banks o’ the Silvery Tay. Also the beautiful Hill o’ Balgay. And the ill fated Bridge o’ the Silvery Tay. Which I […]...
21. 180. Written by Somebody on the Window of an Inn at Stirling HERE Stuarts once in glory reigned, And laws for Scotland’s weal ordained; But now unroof’d their palace stands, Their sceptre’s sway’d by other hands; Fallen indeed, and to the earth Whence groveling reptiles take their birth. The injured Stuart line is gone, A race outlandish fills their throne; An idiot race, to honour lost; Who […]...
22. 514. Song-The Lass o' Ecclefechan GAT ye me, O gat ye me, O gat ye me wi’ naething? Rock an reel, and spinning wheel, A mickle quarter basin: Bye attour my Gutcher has A heich house and a laich ane, A’ forbye my bonie sel, The toss o’ Ecclefechan. O haud your tongue now, Lucky Lang, O haud your tongue […]...
23. Ashes Of Life Love has gone and left me and the days are all alike; Eat I must, and sleep I will,-and would that night were here! But ah!-to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike! Would that it were day again!-with twilight near! Love has gone and left me and I don’t know what to do; […]...
24. Saved by Music At on time, in America, many years ago, Large gray wolves wont to wander to and fro; And from the farm yards they carried pigs and calves away, Which they devoured ravenously, without dismay. But, as the story goes, there was a negro fiddler called old Dick, Who was invited by a wedding party to […]...
25. Dream Song 18: A Strut for Roethke Westward, hit a low note, for a roarer lost Across the Sound but north from Bremerton, Hit a way down note. And never cadenza again of flowers, or cost. Him who could really do that cleared his throat & staggered on. The bluebells, pool-shallows, saluted his over-needs, While the clouds growled, heh-heh, & snapped, & […]...
26. Hymn 47 Death of kindred improved. Zech. 1:5. Must friends and kindred droop and die, And helpers be withdrawn? While sorrow with a weeping eye Counts up our comforts gone? Be thou our comfort, mighty God! Our helper and our friend; Nor leave us in this dangerous road, Till all our trials end. O may our feet […]...
27. The Foreign Land A woman is a foreign land, Of which, though there he settle young, A man will ne’er quite understand The customs, politics, and tongue. The foolish hie them post-haste through, See fashions odd, and prospects fair, Learn of the language, “How d’ye do,” And go and brag they have been there. The most for leave […]...
28. THE MAD MAID'S SONG Good morrow to the day so fair; Good morning, sir, to you; Good morrow to mine own torn hair, Bedabbled with the dew. Good morning to this primrose too; Good morrow to each maid; That will with flowers the tomb bestrew Wherein my Love is laid. Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me, Alack […]...
29. Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer I looked toward the movie, the common dream, The he and she in close-ups, nearer than life, And I accepted such things as they seem, The easy poise, the absence of the knife, The near summer happily ever after, The understood question, the immediate strife, Not dangerous, nor mortal, but the fadeout Enormously kissing amid […]...
30. The Fathers Our fathers all were poor, Poorer our fathers’ fathers; Beyond, we dare not look. We, the sons, keep store Of tarnished gold that gathers Around us from the night, Record it in this book That, when the line is drawn, Credit and creditor gone, Column and figure flown, Will open into light. Archaic fevers shake […]...
31. Song of Hope O sweet To-morrow! – After to-day There will away This sense of sorrow. Then let us borrow Hope, for a gleaming Soon will be streaming, Dimmed by no gray – No gray! While the winds wing us Sighs from The Gone, Nearer to dawn Minute-beats bring us; When there will sing us Larks of a […]...
32. Men They hail you as their morning star Because you are the way you are. If you return the sentiment, They’ll try to make you different; And once they have you, safe and sound, They want to change you all around. Your moods and ways they put a curse on; They’d make of you another person. […]...
33. 52. Epitaph on John Rankine AE day, as Death, that gruesome carl, Was driving to the tither warl’ A mixtie-maxtie motley squad, And mony a guilt-bespotted lad- Black gowns of each denomination, And thieves of every rank and station, From him that wears the star and garter, To him that wintles in a halter: Ashamed himself to see the wretches, […]...
34. Mount Kearsarge Shines Mount Kearsarge shines with ice; from hemlock branches Snow slides onto snow; no stream, creek, or river Budges but remains still. Tonight We carry armloads of logs From woodshed to Glenwood and build up the fire That keeps the coldest night outside our windows. Sit by the woodstove, Camilla, While I bring glasses of white, […]...
35. 252. Lines to John M'Murdo of Drumlanrig O COULD I give thee India’s wealth, As I this trifle send; Because thy joy in both would be To share them with a friend. But golden sands did never grace The Heliconian stream; Then take what gold could never buy- An honest bard’s esteem....
36. The Wander-Light And they heard the tent-poles clatter, And the fly in twain was torn – ‘Tis the soiled rag of a tatter Of the tent where I was born. And what matters it, I wonder? Brick or stone or calico? – Or a bush you were born under, When it happened long ago? And my beds […]...
37. Today This is To-day, a child in white and blue Running to meet me out of Night who stilled The ghost of Yester-eve; this is fair Morn The mother of To-morrow. And these clouds That chase the sunshine over gleaming hills Are thoughts, delighting in the golden change And the ceremony of their drifting state. This […]...
38. To My Enemy Let those who will of friendship sing, And to its guerdon grateful be, But I a lyric garland bring To crown thee, O, mine enemy! Thanks, endless thanks, to thee I owe For that my lifelong journey through Thine honest hate has done for me What love perchance had failed to do. I had not […]...
39. Two south coast poems (a) this morning i came within sound of the sea for a man whose eyes till now were a bed of rock Whose hands were drier than deserts The sea’s voice drove fear up through the valley The tributaries meandering inside me longing for outlet Shrivelled even as their own courses became straight My demand for ocean died now the ocean approached The clouds put […]...
40. I Fellowed Sleep I fellowed sleep who kissed me in the brain, Let fall the tear of time; the sleeper’s eye, Shifting to light, turned on me like a moon. So, planning-heeled, I flew along my man And dropped on dreaming and the upward sky. I fled the earth and, naked, climbed the weather, Reaching a second ground […]...