Thonder they ligg - by
Frae the Gaelic o George Campbell Hay
/
/ “Thonder they ligg on the grund o the sea,
/ nae the hyne whaur they…
the dead
The Green Grass - by
The dead spake together last night,
/ And one to the other said:
/ …
The House by the Sea, Eriskay - by
This is where the drowned climb to land.
/ For a single night when a boat goes down
/
/ soaked footprints line its…
Nigg - by
Time alone separates the dull red
/ granite of these cliffs and the red
/ clay in the kirkyard yonder.
/ As I stand…
A Dead Man - by
A dead man dead for weeks
/ Is sickening food for lover’s eye
/ That seeks and ever seeks
/ A fair one’s beauty…
At My Father’s Funeral - by
Didn’t we think, for a moment, / of crushing his feet / so he couldn’t return to the house /…
The Painter Fabritius Begins Work on the Lost Noli Me Tangere of 1652 - by
I
/
/ This is the myth we chose to do without;
/ and surely the painter imagined the garden he shows
/ as…
My Grandmother’s Love Letters - by
There are no stars tonight
/ But those of memory.
/ Yet how much room for memory there is
/ In the loose…
Aunt Julia - by
Aunt Julia spoke Gaelic
/ very loud and very fast.
/ I could not answer her —
/ I could not understand her.
/
/ She…
Reaching Helmsdale - by
If it weren’t for
/ this red tweed jacket
/ I bought in Brora
/ I might well wonder
/ if we’d ever gone
/ north of Inverness.
/
/ We shouldn’t need…
on the senses - by
little saints buried saints
/ finally kissed by the earth
/ lilies from your parched mouths
/ from your salt lips
/ rise white and…
Praise of a Man - by
He went through a company like a lamplighter –
/ see the dull minds, one after another,
/ begin to glow, to shed
/ a beneficent…