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  • World War I
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World War I

Wild Rover Lads - by Neil Munro

{ Poem }

Mickle we missed, be it confessed,
That brings auld age content;
Blaw the wind East, or blaw it West,
‘Twas there wi’ a sang we went.

Reconciliation - by Margaret Sackville

{ Poem }

When all the stress and all the toil is over,And my lover lies sleeping by your lover,With alien earth on hands and brows and feet,          Then we may meet. Moving sorrowfully with uneven paces,The bright sun shining on our ravaged faces,There, very quietly, without sound or speech,          […]

In Memoriam - by James Pittendrigh Macgillivray

{ Poem }

Blue-eyed, white-souled; blameless in word and deed! —
How fortunate a thing it is to leave
This life in such a way that none may grieve,

A Woman in the Street - by James Pittendrigh Macgillivray

{ Poem }

O bonnie lad wi’ the kilt sae braw
An’ tossel’t sporran swingin’ –
Wi’ dirk at the hip, an’ ribbons rid;
Ye set my hert a-singin’.

Rastatt: III - by Archibald Allan Bowman

{ Poem }

Within these cages day by day we pace The bitter shortness of the meted span; And this and that way variously we plan Our poor excursions over the poor place, Cribbed to extinction. Yet remains one grace. For neither bars nor tented wire can ban Full many a roving glance that dares to scan The […]

Nostra Culpa - by Margaret Sackville

{ Poem }

We knew, this thing at least we knew, – the worth
Of life: this was our secret learned at birth.

Na Mairbh san Raoin - by Murchadh Moireach
Murdo Murray

{ Poem }

Bu shunntach iad a’ dol thar raoin na strì
Tha ’n sin ’nan laighe sìnt’ an sàmhchair bhuain

Mother - by Neil Munro

{ Poem }

Ye were ay a rowdy laddie, Jock,
Since ever ye cam hame,
Unco ill to bed at night,
And dour to wash and kaim.

Jock, to the First Army - by Violet Jacob

{ Poem }

O Rab an’ Dave an’ rantin’ Jim,
The geans were turnin’ reid
When Scotland saw yer line grow dim,
Wi’ the pipers at its heid…

Hesepe: II - by Archibald Allan Bowman

{ Poem }

How hard it is to think upon this shoal
Of Inanition that the world’s ablaze.

Discharged - by David Mackie

{ Poem }

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 […]

Ar Tìr ’s Ar Gaisgich A Thuit sna Blàir - by Iain Rothach
John Munro

{ Poem }

(ii) ’S iomadh fear àlinn, òg, sgairteil, deas-làmhach, Ait-fhaoilt air chinn a bhlàth-chridh’, Tric le ceum daigheann, làidir, ceum aotrum, glan, sàil-ghlan Dhìrich bràigh nam beann mòra, Chaidh a choinneimh a’ bhàis – Tric ga fhaireach’ roimh-làimh – Chaidh suas chum a’ bhlàir ’S tha feur glas an-diugh ’fàs Air na dh’fhàg innleachdan nàmh, Innleachdan […]

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