Alexander Anderson Poems
- A Legend Of St. Patrick I heard this old legend a few days ...
- A Castle Old And Grey I never see a castle That is gaunt ...
- The Landlord's Best A strappin', sonsie, weel-matched ...
- Cuddle Doon The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht, Wi' muckle ...
- One Red Nose One red rose you took from my hand— O the ...
- The Dead Mother The feeble infant, but an hour in life, Lay...
- Bannockburn I heard beneath my feet the clear sharp ring Of...
Alexander Anderson (April 30, 1845 – July 11, 1909) was a Scottish poet.
Born in Kirkconnel, Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland, the sixth and youngest son of James Anderson a quarrier. When the boy was three, the household moved to Crocketford in Kirkcudbrightshire. He attended the local school where the teacher found him to be of average ability. The area around Croketford was renowned for martyrdom and Anderson seems to have taken inspiration from his walks in the hills in his later poetry. At sixteen he was back in his native village working in a quarry; some two years later (1862), he became a surfaceman or platelayer on the Glasgow and South-western railway, and generally wrote... more »
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Comments about Alexander Anderson
A Legend Of St. Patrick
I heard this old legend a few days ago—
A legend so quaint
Of Ireland's saint,
That to lighten my time
I have put it in rhyme,
Just to see how it looks with the lines all a-row.
When St Patrick, that worthy dear man, came to see
How the reptiles polluted his darling 'conthree,'
He determined to stamp them, so set out with glee
To hunt them with curses until they should flee
To less favour'd nations over the sea,
Where they might rest their feet,
Safe in some snug retreat,
And have leisure to cool themselves down from their heat,
And make ...