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Anna Masterton Buchan. The House That Is Our Own
The House That Is Our Own
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits
I am so lonely, years are so long, I want you only, you and your song
An ye had been where I hae been, Ye wadna be sae canty-o, An ye had seen what I hae seen. On the banks o’ Killiecrankie-o
CHAPTER II
Merely to be alive is adventure enough in a world like. this, so erratic and disjointed, so lovely and so odd, and mysterious and profound. It is, at any rate, a. pity to remain in it half-dead
CHAPTER III
What I admire most is the total defiance of expense
Rainy rainy Rattle-sticks, dinna rain on me, Rain on Johnny Groat’s house far across the sea;
CHAPTER IV
A blessed thing it is for any man or woman to have a. friend, one whom we can trust utterly, who knows. the best and the worst of us, and who loves us just. the same.—Charles Kingsley
CHAPTER V
That place that does contain. My books, the best of company is to me, A glorious Court where hourly I. Converse...
CHAPTER VI
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear
CHAPTER VII
It was warm, with a latent shiver in the air that made. the warmth only the more welcome
CHAPTER VIII
Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade. To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich-embroidered canopy. To Kings ... ?
CHAPTER IX
The old strange house that is our own
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves, O fat white woman whom nobody loves?
CHAPTER X
... Letters—not dissertations, not sentimental effusions, not strings of witticisms; but real letters such as any. person of plain sense would be glad to receive
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
Sir, I love the acquaintance of young people
CHAPTER XIII
Every one of these islanders is himself an island
CHAPTER XIV
Ah, sweet content, where is thy mild abode? Is it with shepherds and light-hearted swains?
CHAPTER XV
Brave flowers! that I could gallant it like you. And be as little vain!
CHAPTER XVI
The things that do attain. The happy life be these, I find, The riches left, not sot with pain, The fruitful ground, the quiet mind
CHAPTER XVII
Twa clear candles. Bonnily they shine. The loaf is o’ the wheaten meal, The cloth o’ the linen fine
CHAPTER XVIII
I should have there this only fear: Lest men, when they my pleasure see, Should hither throng to live like me, And so make a city here
CHAPTER XIX
At ilka turn a bit wanderin’ burn, And a canty biggin’ on ilka lea— There’s nocht see braw in the wide world’s schaw. As the heughs and holms o’ the South Countrie
CHAPTER XX
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend ..
CHAPTER XXI
It’s rainin’ weet’s the garden-sod, Weet the lang road where gangrels plod...
CHAPTER XXII
The ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes...
CHAPTER XXIII
The smell o’ the simmer hills, Thyme and hinny and heather, Juniper, birk and fern...
CHAPTER XXIV
I propose writing you every day. My opinions and. descriptions will depend on the health and humour of. the Moment in which I write, from which cause my. Sentiments will often appear to differ on the same. subject.—The Journal of a Lady of Quality
CHAPTER XXV
I see the grass shake in the sun for leagues on either hand. I see a river loop..
CHAPTER XXVI
West and away from here to heaven still is the land
CHAPTER XXVII
Go softly by that river-side, or when you would depart, you’ll find its every winding tied and knotted. round your heart...
CHAPTER XXVIII
Feather-beds are saft, Pentit homes are bonnie; But a kiss o’ my dear love. Is better far than ony
CHAPTER XXIX
All, World of ours, are you so grey, And weary, World, of spinning, That you repeat the tales to-day. You told at the beginning?
CHAPTER XXX
We may have to choose between barren ease and rich. unrest, or rather, one does not choose. Life somehow. chooses.—Winifred Holtby
