"strath" poems
See the various Poems the scene of which is laid upon
the banks of the Yarrow; in particular, the exquisite
Ballad of Hamilton beginning—
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny Bride,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome Marrow!
From Stirling castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravelled;
Had trod the banks of Clyde, and Tay,
And with the Tweed had travelled;
And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my “winsome Marrow,”
“Whate’er betide, we’ll turn aside,
And see the Braes of Yarrow.”
“Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town,
Who have been buying, selling,
Go back to Yarrow, ’tis their own;
Each maiden to her dwelling!
On Yarrow’s banks let her herons feed,
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow!
But we will downward with the Tweed
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.
“There’s Galla Water, Leader Haughs,
Both lying right before us;
And Dryborough, where with chiming Tweed
The lintwhites sing in chorus;
There’s pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land
Made blithe with plough and harrow:
Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow?
“What’s Yarrow but a river bare,
That glides the dark hills under?
There are a thousand such elsewhere
As worthy of your wonder.”
—Strange words they seemed of slight and scorn;
My True-love sighed for sorrow;
And looked me in the face, to think
I thus could speak of Yarrow!
“Oh! green,” said I, “are Yarrow’s holms,
And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock,
But we will leave it growing.
O’er hilly path, and open Strath,
We’ll wander Scotland thorough;
But, though so near, we will not turn
Into the dale of Yarrow.
“Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Burn-mill meadow,
The swan on still St. Mary’s Lake
Float double, swan and shadow!
We will not see them; will not go,
To-day, nor yet to-morrow;
Enough if in our hearts we know
There’s such a place as Yarrow.
“Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!
It must, or we shall rue it:
We have a vision of our own;
Ah! why should we undo it?
The treasured dreams of times long past,
We’ll keep them, winsome Marrow!
For when we’er there, although ’tis fair,
’Twill be another Yarrow!
“If Care with freezing years should come,
And wandering seem but folly,—
Should we be loth to stir from home,
And yet be melancholy;
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
’Twill soothe us in our sorrow,
That earth has something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow!”
3.6k
Only a long, low-lying lane
That follows to the misty sea,
Across a bare and russet plain
Where wild winds whistle vagrantly;
I know that many a fairer path
With lure of song and bloom may woo,
But oh ! I love this lonely strath
Because it is so full of you.
Here we have walked in elder years,
And here your truest memories wait,
This spot is sacred to your tears,
That to your laughter dedicate;
Here, by this turn, you gave to me
A gem of thought that glitters yet,
This tawny slope is graciously
By a remembered smile beset.
Here once you lingered on an hour
When stars were shining in the west,
To gather one pale, scented flower
And place it smiling on your breast;
And since that eve its fragrance blows
For me across the grasses sere,
Far sweeter than the latest rose,
That faded bloom of yesteryear.
For me the sky, the sea, the wold,
Have beckoning visions wild and fair,
The mystery of a tale untold,
The grace of an unuttered prayer.
Let others choose the fairer path
That winds the dimpling valley through,
I gladly seek this lonely strath
Companioned by my dreams of you.
1.8k
*Glorious wanderers on Death's celadon globe
Stride- in sombre ceilidh- the arsenic haar,
Mantle of Dis' harrowing of derelicts.
Feral shadows stroking the hollow strath
With crimson paces aloft Acheron's shores,
The Erinyes, in macabre cavalcades
Walk the land, bereft, forever of aubades*
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
Love, this is the home of craggy sorrow
Each bleak house hugs a solitary widow
Waiting more at a pale silent window
Which portends the dead empty path
This carry the northern cold winds
Of early mornings into the gloomy strath,
Folding time, impatience and wrath,
And all day long, become friends
Footsteps' echoes and pattering of little ones,
Nabbing illusions of joyful shades of tones,
And miserable hearts those endowed anxiety,
And eyes, lips and noses always ready to cry,
Yet how they are innocent, ignorant and pretty.
O love, how the untold words are never dry,
And never desert me like the green in a cedar
Everlasting homage to warmth of leaves,
I doubt that my absence should less differ;
I believe when time rashly counts and leaves,
I should feel your waiting when I disappear
Holding close to my soul your rich serenity,
I should roam your world like a dead star;
Long ago vanished, yet glistens bright and clear
Like your sad eyes when full of precious tears
Those guard your peace and banish your fears.
Written by
Jamal Abboud
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
I dream of a world which is perfect
a world with nothing but respect
where i am a small but important part
where love and joy ain't miles apart
I dream of a world where politics isn't a game
it has people with might and vision but no dismay
Where in every aspect girls are better than the boys
oh, who am i kidding?
They're already better than these rookies
who eat, sleep and both with noise
i dream of world where religion is just a path
where people know they'll reach the same destination
and not a strath
I dream of a world where everyone is just and unbiased
love, joy, difficulties are shared by all, even the shyest
where people die, but are never forgotten
where friendships are never, never rotten
I dream
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
( )
> where drifts the self?
frore strath
where stalkers
drip their sultry rest
and our shoulders
thaw
into
the moor of dumb ”Earth”;
> where do the ARROWS lead?
to the soft cortège of gut
slunk in eve’s
inferring weave;
often whit’s
threnode
where bre^th ignores its end
> what stirs now?
wearing the guise of lack
[...]
ego, and
a patch of moss in sombre ”snow”
lurching
beyond limbs,
beyond need
> when loosens time?
the night clasps
thin as the sigh of origin
and i
(and we)
one sunken, shallow leaf;
do not rise /
do not recall
> none beside?
only the dreary,
detailed fatigue
of being
unmade, unmade...
> ▍
Jul 18, 2025
Jul 18, 2025 at 5:00 PM UTC
MYSTERIOUS WOMAN.Vol 1
The Encounter vol.1- By Phyll
(two campus students meet for the first time.the male is so active and social.he tends to keep the conversation spiced by fluttering the lady.the lady is also fun to have around since she's not only beautiful but also classy.)
Phyll; "You're super cute. What's your name?"
Her; *Laughs "Oh thank you. It's Shivanny."
Phyll; "Have you had this affect on everyone today or just me?"
Her; Laughs "Just you."
Phyll; "I don't believe you. I think you get dressed up every day to see how many random strangers you can meet. You're that random stranger meeter I heard about on the news. The one that keeps stopping all the guys at MMU from getting to their classes."
Her; Laughs again "Oh my god, who are you?"
Phyll; "I'm Phyll, good to meet you."
(we shake hands)
Phyll; "So, how do you like attending school here?"
Her; "It's cool. The people here are nice."(let's assume she doesn't ask me a question back)
Phyll; "It seems cool but I'm actually not a student here. Don't tell anybody (whispering). I'm just visiting from that other school across town. You ever been?"
Her; "Oh Strath? Yeah, I like it."
Phyll; "You seem cool. We should hang out sometime." Pulling out my phone "What's your number?"
Her; "Not that quick boy.Meet me at the parking later.My number is KQA 001S.
Phyll;"meaning?"
Her; "c'mon charming!"
Phyll;(staring with the 'i don't know look)
Her; "Kenyan Queens Association 001 Shivanny. Find that machine in the parking"(as she walks away)
...Boy-child left speechless...
To be continued...
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
COPYRIGHT BY PHYLL
(C)2018
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 6:39 AM UTC