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. Villion's Ballade Of Good Counsel, To His Friends Of Evil Life 4/20/2010
6. Partant Pour La Scribie 4/20/2010
7. Sir Hugh; Or The Jew's Daughter 4/20/2010
8. Edward, Edward 4/20/2010
9. Traditionary Version 4/20/2010
10. Valentine In Form Of Ballade 4/20/2010
11. Jamie Telfer 4/20/2010
12. In Ithaca 4/20/2010
13. Robin Hood And The Monk 4/20/2010
14. Natural Theology 4/20/2010
15. Johnie Faa 4/20/2010
16. Les Roses De Sâdi 1/1/2004
17. Kinmont Willie 4/20/2010
18. Love Gregor; Or, The Lass Of Lochroyan 4/20/2010
19. Robin Hood And The Potter 4/20/2010
20. Sir Roland 4/20/2010
21. The Dowie Dens Of Yarrow 4/20/2010
22. The Heir Of Lynne 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. The Fairy's Gift 4/20/2010
33. Villanelle 4/20/2010
34. Benedetta Ramus 4/20/2010
35. San Terenzo 1/1/2004
36. Rob Roy 4/20/2010
37. Mary Ambree 4/20/2010
38. Gordon Of Brackley 4/20/2010
39. The Battle Of Harlaw--Evergreen Version 4/20/2010
40. Robin Hood And The Butcher 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

San Terenzo

MID April seemed like some November day,
When through the glassy waters, dull as lead,
Our boat, like shadowy barques that bear the dead,
Slipped down the long shores of the Spezian bay,
Rounded a point,—and San Terenzo lay
Before us, that gay village, yellow and red,
The roof that covered Shelley’s homeless head,—
His house, a place deserted, bleak and gray.
The waves broke on the doorstep; fishermen

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