|“Welcome, welcome, do I sing”||William Browne||1611||
Welcome, welcome, do I sing,
Love, that to the voice is near,
|“We parted in silence”||Louisa Macartney Crawford||
We parted in silence, we parted by night,
|“We have been friends together”||Caroline Elizabeth Sarah||
We have been friends together
|“We are seven”||William Wordsworth||1790||
A Simple child,
I met a little cottage girl:
|“We are brethren a’”||Robert Nicoll||
A Happy bit hame this auld world would be
I ken na why ane wi’ anither should fight,
O Waly, waly, up the bank,
|“Under the shade of the trees”||Margaret Junkin Preston||
[The last words of Stonewall Jackson 1 were: “Let us cross the river and rest under the shade of the trees.”]
WHAT are the thoughts that are stirring his breast?
|“Too late I stayed”||William Robert Spencer||
Too late I stayed,—forgive the crime!
And who, with clear account, remarks
|“To heaven approached a Sufi Saint”||Jalal ad-Din Rumi||1227||
From the Persian by William R. Alger
TO heaven approached a Sufi Saint,
Said God, “Who seeks to enter here?”
|“Times go by turns”||Robert Southwell||1581||
The Lopped tree in time may grow again;
|“Till death us part”||Arthur Penrhyn Stanley||
“TILL death us part,”
Life with its...
|“Thy braes were bonny”||John Logan||1768||
Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream!
Forever now, O Yarrow stream!
|“Three years she grew”||William Wordsworth||1790||
Three years she grew in sun and shower;
“Myself will to my darling be
|“Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie”||Allan Cunningham||1804||
Thou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie,
|“Thou art gone to the grave”||Reginald Heber||
Thou art gone to the grave—but we will not deplore thee,
Thou art gone to the grave—we no longer...
|“Those evening bells”||Thomas Moore||1799||
Those evening bells! those evening bells!
Those joyous hours are passed away;
|“They come! the merry summer months”||William Motherwell||
They come! the merry summer months of beauty, song, and flowers;
|“They are dear fish to me”||Anonymous||
The Farmer’s wife sat at the door,
When, bending ’neath her heavy creel,
|“They are all gone”||Henry Vaughan||1641||
They are all gone into the world of light,
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
|“There’s nae luck about the house”||Jean Adam||
And are ye sure the news is true?