Winter-Time - by
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Late lies the wintry sun a-bed,
A frosty, fiery sleepy-head;
Blinks but an hour or two; and then,
A blood-red orange, sets again.
Folded card work
Handbound volume
When the fighting days are over, And we’re finished with the fray,When they draft us back to Dover To be put on pension pay;You may think we’ll be in clover But remember this, my son,When the fighting days are over, Then our fight has just begun. It is hard, there’s no […]
The sun’s going down behind the great shale-heap
/ Over against the village; shadows creep
/ Shifting from door to door, and all the…
You’re building another Christmas for one, /decorating the present with sparkly / lights & glitter, a long line of cards…
The tide is sidling up to Almorness, / unmet by those returned now north & west / away from here.
This morning, as the 372 shoogled
/ through Carsethorn, hirpled
/ wabbit past the kirk and through
/ dreich smirr hoyed down from
/ droukit braes above,…
Finally, I’m done with the phone calls and everything else
/ and when I switch on the radio it feels like lying…
On the Forfar ‘bus in a morn of spring,
/ A nipping wind and the frost’s sharp sting;
/ And I can’t tell why,…
We could go to Paris of course
/ but not so often. And it might not be quite
/ as cosy as…
Red roofs peeping through the stately trees,
/ A distant spire; smoke floating on the breeze;
/ The whir of aeroplanes high overhead;
/ Brown cows,…
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