Clinton Scollard Poems

I saw a snowflake in the air
When smiling May had decked the year,
And then 't was gone, I knew not where,-
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Had I the power
To cast a bell that should from some grand tower,
At the first Christmas hour,
Outring,
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There is a vale in the Flemish land,
A vale once fair to see,
Where under the sweep of the sky's wide arch,
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Of all my dreams by night and day,
One dream will evermore return,
The dream of Italy in May;
The sky a brimming azure urn
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As I came down from Lebanon,
Came winding, wandering slowly down
Through mountain passes bleak and brown,
The cloudless day was well-nigh done.
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I shan’t tell you what’s his name:
When we want to play a game,
Always thinks that he’ll be hurt,
Soil his jacket in the dirt,
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I set apart a day for wandering;
I heard the woodlands ring,
The hidden white-throat sing,
And the harmonic West,
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Above the shouting of the gale,
   The whipping sheet, the dashing spray,
I heard, with notes of joy and wail,
   A piper play.
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(Fiona Macleod)

The waves about Iona dirge,
   The wild winds trumpet over Skye;
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BE ye in love with April-tide?
I’ faith, in love am I!
For now ’t is sun, and now ’t is shower,
And now ’t is frost, and now ’t is flower,
...