Quote #56
Dear Andrew, with the brindled hair Who glory to have thrown in air, High over arm, the trembling reed, By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed.
More from Robert Louis Stevenson
- Let first the onion flourish there, Rose among roots, the maiden-fair, Wine-scented and poetic soul Of the capacious salad bowl.
- Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the ve…
- Of all my verse, like not a single line; But like my title, for it is not mine. That title from a better man I stole: Ah, how much better, …
- My body which my dungeon is, And yet my parks and palaces: - Which is so great that there I go All the day long to and fro.
- The world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
- There's just ae thing I cannae bear, An' that's my conscience.
- The friendly cow all red and white, I love with all my heart: She gives me cream with all her might, To eat with apple-tart.
- Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, Nor a friend to know me; All I ask, the heaven above And the road below me.