8 quotes
Let first the onion flourish there,
Rose among roots, the maiden-fair,
Wine-scented and poetic soul
Of the capacious salad bowl.
Underwoods (1887)
There's just ae thing I cannae bear,
An' that's my conscience.
Underwoods (1887)
Who comes tonight? We ope the doors in vain
Underwoods (1887)
My body which my dungeon is,
And yet my parks and palaces: —
Which is so great that there I go
All the day long to and fro.
Underwoods (1887)
Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.
Underwoods (1887)
Of all my verse, like not a single line;
But like my title, for it is not mine.
That title from a better man I stole:
Ah, how much better, had I stol'n the whole!
Underwoods (1887)
Dear Andrew, with the brindled hair
Who glory to have thrown in air,
High over arm, the trembling reed,
By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed.
Underwoods (1887)
Go, little book, and wish to all
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,
A bin of wine, a spice of wit,
A house with lawns enclosing it,
A living river by the door,
A nightingale in the sycamore!
Underwoods (1887)