Short space shall be hereafter
Ere April brings the hour
Of weeping and of laughter,
...
As I was walking down the street
A week ago,
Near Henderson's I chanced to meet
A man I know.
...
Through many lands and over many seas
I come, my Brother, to thine obsequies,
To pay thee the last honours that remain,
...
The mist hangs round the College tower,
The ghostly street
Is silent at this midnight hour,
Save for my feet.
...
Here, where the thoroughfares meet at an angle
Of ninety degrees (this angle is right),
You may hear the loafers that jest and wrangle
...
The fire burns bright
And the hearth is clean swept,
As she likes it kept,
And the lamp is alight.
...
When the weary night is fled,
And the morning sky is red,
Then my heart doth rise and say,
`Surely she will come to-day.'
...
The lady stood at the station bar,
(Three currants in a bun)
And oh she was proud, as ladies are.
(And the bun was baked a week ago.)
...
Whene'er I try to read a book,
Across the page your face will look,
And then I neither know nor care
What sense the printed words may bear.
...
Would you like to see a city given over,
Soul and body, to a tyrannising game?
If you would, there's little need to be a rover,
For St. Andrews is the abject city's name.
...