Orkney / This Life - Andrew Greig

It is big sky and its changes,
the sea all round and the waters within.
It is the way sea and sky
work off each other constantly,
like people meeting in Alfred Street,
each face coming away with a hint
of the other's face pressed in it.
It is the way a week-long gale
ends and folk emerge to hear
a single bird cry way high up.

As toward the Ascrean Mount - Giambattista Felice Zappi

As toward the Ascrean mount I take my way
  Attending Glory at my right I hail;—

Roses in Springtime - Publius Annius Florus

Roses are here at last: thanks to the mood
Of lovely Spring, one day shows barbs of bloom;

The Seeking of Self - Vyacheslav Ivanov

Dying, the seed will discover the self it finds in the losing.

White Paper - Sydney Jephcott

Snowy-smooth beneath the pen—
  Richest field that iron ploughs,
Germinating thoughts of men,
  Tho’ no heaven its rain allows.

Clear air - Gabriel Rosenstock

You came from clear air
Pure sky
Of our being

Words - Charles Harpur

Words are deeds. The words we hear
May revolutionize or rear
A mighty state. The words we read
May be a spiritual deed

Cuttin’ Rushes - Moira O’Neill

Oh, maybe it was yesterday, or fifty years ago!
  Meself was risin’ early on a day for cuttin’ rushes.

Had I a Golden Pound - Francis Ledwidge

Had I a golden pound to spend,
My love should mend and sew no more.
And I would buy her a little quern,
Easy to turn on the kitchen floor.

I Will Not Have You Think Me Less - Santob de Carrion

I Will not have you think me less
  Than others of my faith,
Who live on a generous king’s largess,
  Forsworn at every breath.

Postscript - Anne M’Vicar Grant

Jean, fetch that heap of tangled yarn,
And bring those stockings here to darn,
And get from Anne the dairy keys,
That I may go and count my cheese;

Ca’ the Yowes - Isobel Pagan

Ca’ the yowes to the knowes,
Ca’ them whare the heather grows,
Ca’ them whare the burnie rows,
    My bonnie dearie.

Mountain and Valley - Friedrich Adolf Krummacher

On Alpine heights the love of God is shed;
    He paints the morning red,
    The flowerets white and blue,
    And feeds them with his dew.
On Alpine heights a loving Father dwells.

The Yokel and the Light-o’-Love - Theocritus

When I would kiss Eunice, loud laughed she,
And taunting cried: ‘Thou boor, begone from me!
Would’st kiss me, wretch?—I cannot kiss a clown—
No lips press I but such as hail from town.

The Ballad of Guibour - Frédéric Mistral

At Arles in the Carlovingian days,
        By the swift Rhone water,
A hundred thousand on either side,
Christian and Saracen, fought till the tide
        Ran red with the slaughter.

Why Sighest Thou? - Cino da Pistoia

“Why sighest thou?” Ah! ask not why;
  But late the tidings I have known,
  And all my wishes shattered lie:

Birthday recollection - Bruce Levitan

It is my birthday,
a day of recollections...

Wounded of Love - Bonaggiunta Urbisani

Wounded, I pray my wounder to beware
  Lest me, by plucking out her barb, she slay;
For many dying I have seen, that were
  Not killed by wound, but weapon drawn away.

The Hen - Matthias Claudius

A famous hen ’s my story’s theme,
  Which ne’er was known to tire
Of laying eggs, but then she ’d scream
So loud o’er every egg, ’t would seem
  The house must be on fire.

The Mountain Boy - Johann Ludwig Uhland

The shepherd of the Alps am I,
The castles far beneath me lie;
Here first the ruddy sunlight gleams,
Here linger last the parting beams.
      The mountain boy am I!