My love, if I write a song for youTo that extent you are goneFor, as everyone says, and I know it’s true:We are all always alone. Never so separate trying to be twoAnd the busy old fool is right.To try and finger myself from youDistinguishes day from night. If I say “I love you” we […]
Old Davie still did much farm work by hand.
/ Tae thin neeps, ye gae up an doon thae rowse.
Shall I compare you to an Autumn day?
The seasons, love, have grown more temperate.
Rough winds have shaken us along the way,
The summers gone too far to contemplate.
All the love I have will not take her years away:
/ All the knowledge given not grant her time release,
/ Yet one…
I saw them sitting on a grassy bank –
/ Under the shade of mighty trees they were;
/ Yet those they saw…
Soon is the night of our faring to regions unknown,
/ There not to flinch at the challenge suddenly thrown
/ By the great…
Spring heat, a cherry / tree’s fresh bronze leaves fan out and gleam – to / converse with shades, yourself…
(from the photo with the same title by Don McCullin)
/ A pipe fitter’s mate at the gates of dawn
/ Is wrenched from…
When first I saw you in the curious street,
/ Like some platoon of soldier ghosts in grey,
/ My mad impulse was…
My Lute, bee as thou wast when thou didst grow
/ With thy greene Mother in some shadie Grove,
/ When immelodious Windes but…
They say I should not wait about your street,
/ nor call upon your friends to hear of you,
/ or go to places…
/ Saints have adored the lofty soul of you.
/ Poets have whitened at your high renown.
/ We stand among the many millions who