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The Complete Poetical Works of Robert Buchanan

In Two Volumes. With a Portrait
Buchanan, Robert Williams (1841-1901)

collapse sectionI. 
VOL. I.
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Early Poems.
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Undertones.
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Idyls and Legends of Inverburn.
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London Poems.
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Miscellaneous Poems.
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North Coast, and other Poems.
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Sonnets WRITTEN BY LOCH CORUISK, ISLE OF SKYE.
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CORUISKEN SONNETS.
 I. 
I. Lord, is it Thou?
 II. 
II. We are Fatherless.
 III. 
III. We are Children.
 IV. 
IV. When we are all Asleep.
 V. 
V. But the Hills will bear Witness.
 VI. 
VI. Desolate!
 VII. 
VII. Lord, art Thou here?
 VIII. 
VIII. God is Beautiful.
 IX. 
IX. The Motion of the Mists.
 X. 
X. Coruisk.
 XI. 
XI. But Whither?
 XII. 
XII. God is Pitiless.
 XIII. 
XIII. Yea, Pitiless.
 XIV. 
XIV. Could God be Judged.
 XV. 
XV. The Hills on their Thrones.
 XVI. 
XVI. King Blaabhein.
 XVII. 
XVII. Blaabhein in the Mists.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. The Fiery Birth of the Hills.
 XIX. 
XIX. The Changeless Hills.
 XX. 
XX. O Mountain Peak of a God.
 XXI. 
XXI. God the Image.
 XXII. 
XXII. The Footprints.
 XXIII. 
XXIII. We are Deathless.
 XXIV. 
XXIV. A Voice in the Whirlwind.
 XXV. 
XXV. Cry of the Little Brook.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. The Happy Hearts of Earth.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. Father, forgive Thy Child.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. God's Loneliness.
 XXIX. 
XXIX. The Cup of Tears.
 XXX. 
XXX. The Light of the World.
 XXXI. 
XXXI. Earth's Eldest Born.
 XXXII. 
XXXII. What Spirit Cometh?
 XXXIII. 
XXXIII. Stay, O Spirit!
 XXXIV. 
XXXIV. Quiet Waters.
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The Book of Orm.
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Political Mystics.
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Songs of the Terrible Year.
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Saint Abe and his Seven Wives.
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VOL. II.

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XXV. Cry of the Little Brook.

Christ help me! whither would my dark thoughts run,
I look around me, trembling fearfully;
The dreadful silence of the Silent One
Freezes my lips, and all is sad to see.
Hark! hark! what small voice murmurs ‘God made me!’
It is the Brooklet, singing all alone,
Sparkling with pleasure that is all its own,
And running, self-contented, sweet, and free.
O Brooklet, born where never grass is green,
Finding the stony hill and flowing fleet,
Thou comest as a Messenger serene,
With shining wings and silver-sandall'd feet;
Faint falls thy music on a Soul unclean,
And, in a moment, all the World looks sweet!
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