Andrew Lang

(31 March 1844 - 20 July 1912 / Selkirk, Scotland)

Andrew Lang Poems

1. Willie's Ladye 4/20/2010
2. Young Bicham 4/20/2010
3. Waly, Waly 4/20/2010
4. Woman And The Weed 4/20/2010
5. Partant Pour La Scribie 4/20/2010
6. Sir Hugh; Or The Jew's Daughter 4/20/2010
7. Edward, Edward 4/20/2010
8. Traditionary Version 4/20/2010
9. Valentine In Form Of Ballade 4/20/2010
10. Jamie Telfer 4/20/2010
11. In Ithaca 4/20/2010
12. Robin Hood And The Monk 4/20/2010
13. Natural Theology 4/20/2010
14. Johnie Faa 4/20/2010
15. Les Roses De Sâdi 1/1/2004
16. Kinmont Willie 4/20/2010
17. Love Gregor; Or, The Lass Of Lochroyan 4/20/2010
18. Robin Hood And The Potter 4/20/2010
19. Sir Roland 4/20/2010
20. The Dowie Dens Of Yarrow 4/20/2010
21. The Heir Of Lynne 4/20/2010
22. Villion's Ballade Of Good Counsel, To His Friends Of Evil Life 4/20/2010
23. Rose The Red And White Lily 4/20/2010
24. May Colven 4/20/2010
25. Homer 4/20/2010
26. Melville And Coghill - The Place Of The Little Hand 1/1/2004
27. The Bonnie Earl Moray 4/20/2010
28. Lord Thomas And Fair Annet 4/20/2010
29. The Broomfield Hill 4/20/2010
30. Spring 4/20/2010
31. The Laird Of Waristoun 4/20/2010
32. Villanelle 4/20/2010
33. Benedetta Ramus 4/20/2010
34. San Terenzo 1/1/2004
35. Rob Roy 4/20/2010
36. Mary Ambree 4/20/2010
37. Gordon Of Brackley 4/20/2010
38. The Battle Of Harlaw--Evergreen Version 4/20/2010
39. Robin Hood And The Butcher 4/20/2010
40. Jock O The Side 4/20/2010
Best Poem of Andrew Lang

Ballade Of Worldly Wealth

Money taketh town and wall,
Fort and ramp without a blow;
Money moves the merchants all,
While the tides shall ebb and flow;
Money maketh Evil show
Like the Good, and Truth like lies:
These alone can ne'er bestow
Youth, and health, and Paradise.

Money maketh festival,
Wine she buys, and beds can strow;
Round the necks of captains tall,
Money wins them chains to throw,
Marches soldiers to and fro,
Gaineth ladies with sweet eyes:
These alone can ne'er bestow
Youth, and health, and Paradise.

Money wins the priest his stall;
Money mitres ...

Read the full of Ballade Of Worldly Wealth

Scythe Song

MOWERS, weary and brown, and blithe,
What is the word methinks ye know,
Endless over-word that the Scythe
Sings to the blades of the grass below?
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover,
Something, still, they say as they pass;
What is the word that, over and over,
Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass?

[Hata Bildir]