OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Goldfinch (1)/Kathleen O'More

Kathleen O'More.
My love, I think that I see her once more, But, alas! she has left me her loss to deplore, My own little Kathleen, my poor last Kathleen, My Kathleen, O.
Her hair glossy black, her eyes were dark blue, Her colour still changing, her smiles were ever new, So pretty was Kathleen, my sweet little Kathleen, My Kathleen, O. She milk'd the dun cow, that ne’er offer’d to stir;
Though wicked it was, it was gentle to her, So kind was my Kathleen, my poor little Kathleen, My Kathleen, O.
She sat at the door one cold afternoon, So hear the wind blow and to look at the moon, So pensive was Kathleen, my poor little Kathleen, My Kathleen, O. ​Cold was the night-breeze that sigh'd round her bower; ⟨It⟩ ehill’d my poor Kathleen, she droop’d from that hour, And I lost my poor Kathleen, my own little Kathleen, My Kathleen, O.
The bird of all birds that I love the best, ⟨Is⟩ the Robin that in the churchyard builds her nest, ⟨For⟩ she seems to watch Kathleen, hops lightly on Kathleen, My Kathleen, O.
# Goldfinch (1)/Come buy my Cherries

Come buy my Cherries.
⟨Come⟩ buy my cherries, beauteous lasses, ⟨Fresh⟩ from the garden pluck'd by me, ⟨All⟩ on a summers day so gay, Sweet fruit and flowers I cry. ⟨Come⟩ then, fair lassies, pray, And of poor Sally buy
⟨Come⟩ buy my roses, youthful lovers, ⟨And⟩ wave a garland for each maiden's hair. ⟨All⟩ on a summer’s day so gay, Oh! let not pleasure fly. ⟨Come⟩ then, fond lovers, pray,
​Sigh not that blossoms are so fleeting, But seize the treasure, though soon ’twill fade Thus like a summer’s day so gay, Life’s bloom will gently fly, Come then, young lovers, pray, And of poor Sally buy.
# Goldfinch (1)/Bone of my Bone

Bone of my Bone.
Oh, Biddy, dear Biddy, I'm waiting for you: There's your father he's feeding the hogs;
Oh, your mo’her has gone the old cow to pursue, And is sticking quite fast in the bogs.
Then jump from the window right into my arms, And we'll run off to Father Malone,
Whare, my darling, my jewel, I’ll gaze on your charms, And we’ll then become bone of one bone.
Oh, don't be afraid of the leap my delight, For below there's a large heap of hay,
And no one can see you, because it is night; So jump down to me, Biddy, I pray:
For I’m sure, if you don’t, I shall die with the pain, I shall sigh, I shall grunt, I shall groan.
Since you never can get such a sweetheart again, Arrah, come and be bone of my bone.
# Goldfinch (1)/In the midst, &c.

In the midst, &c.
In the midst of our happiness, love, Why thus turn away with a sigh?
Is‘t the fear lest inconstant I prove, That bids the tear gush in that eye?
Believe me, that fear is all vain, For o'er the whole world should I wander,
I never could love so again,
​In vain eyes may flash and lips smile; To me they shall prove no deluders;
My love they can never beguile, To my heart they can be but intruders.
From suspicion let thine he at rest, For mine is so brimful of thee,
That, while its throbs rise in my breast, No room for another there‘ll be.
The tear-drops that stands in those eyes, Serve to make their soft ray double bright,
As tears wept by soft summer skies In the sun form a rainbow of light.
Like that rainbow, then, let it portend, (While vanish'd each dark cloud of sorrow)
That jealousy's storm's at an end, And promise bright looks for to-morrow.
# Goldfinch (1)/I'll never leave Thee

I‘ll never leave Thee.
One day I heard my Mary say, How shall I leave thee?
Stay, dearest Adonis, stay, Why wilt thou grieve me?
Alas! my fond heart will break, If thou shouldst leave me:
I'll live and die for thy sake, Yet never leave thee.
Say, lovely Adonis, say, Has Mary deceived thee?
Did e’re her young heart betray New love, that's grieved thee? ​My constant, heart ne'er shall stray, Thou mayst believe me;
I’ll love thee, lad, night and day, And never leave thee.
Adonis, my charming youth, What can relieve thee?
Can Mary thy anguish sooth? This breast shall receive thee.
My passion shall ne'er decay, Never deceive thee;
Delight shall drive pain away, Pleasure revive thee.
But leave thee, leave thee, lad, How shall I leave thee?
O, that thought makes me sad! I’ll never leave thee,
Where would my Adonis fly? Why does he grieve me?
Alas! my poor heart will die, If I should leave thee!
# Goldfinch (1)/Tell me, Mary

Tell me, Mary.
Oh, tell me, tell me, Mary dear, Whence is that pensive sigh? Oh, tell me whence the pearly tear That trembles in thine eye? I cannot, dare not hope for love; Yet on that cheek I see What would the softest wishes move,
​And yet in Mary's gentle soul, Some pitying thoughts may dwell,
And those bright drops that silent roll The tender secret tell.
Oh, Mary! calm thy lover's fears, Who lives for none but thee,
And say that all the sighs and tears, Are only given to thee.
# Goldfinch (1)/Tho' love is warm awhile

Tho‘ love is warm awhile.
Though love is warm awhile, Soon it grows cold; Absence soon blights the smile, When he grows old. Dearest, thy love was mine, My every thought was thine: Thus did our hearts entwine, Ere love was cold.
But could thy bosom prove Faithful, my fair; Could'st thou still fondly love, Still absence bear? Oh! it was sweet to be Loved, as I was, by thee: But if thou'rt lost to me, Welcome ⟨despair⟩!
# The Legacy (Glasgow)/Gude Forgi'e Me For Lien'

GUDE FORGI'E ME FOR LIEN'.
Ae day a braw wooer came down the lang glen, An' sair wi' his love he did deave me; But I said, there was naething I hated like men, But O! what a fool to believe me.
A well stocket mailen, himsel' for the laird, A bridal aff hand was the proffer, I never loot on that I kent it, or car'd; But thought I might get a waur offer.
​He spake o' the darts o' my bonny black een, An' how for my love he was dien'; I said he might die when he liket for Jean, The guide forgi'e me for lien'!
But what do ye think in a fortnight or less, (The diel's in his taste to gae near her), He's down the lang glen to my black cousin Bess, Guess ye how the jade I could bear her!
Sae a' the neist owk as I fretted wi care, I gaed to the tryst o' Dulgarlock; An' wha but my braw fickle wooer was there, Wha glowr'd as if he'd seen a warlock.
Out o'er my left shouther I gied him a blink, Lest neibours shou'd think I was saucy; My wooer he caper'd as he'd been in drink, An' vow'd that I was a dear lassie.
I spier'd for my cousin, fu' couthie an' sweet, It she had recover'd her hearin; And how my auld shoon fitted her shachel'd feet, Gude safe us! how he fell a swearin.
He begg'd me for Gudesake! that I'd be his wife Or else I wad kill him with sorrow; Sae ⟨just to⟩ preserve the poor body in life, I think I shall wed him to-morrow.
FINIS.
# The Musical Charmer/Gude Forgi'e me for Liein'

Gude Forgi'e me for Liein'.
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# Crazy Jane (1820)

CRAZY JANE.
to which are added,
Down the burn Davie.
Corn rigs are bonny.
THE
⟨BIRKS⟩ OF INVERMAY.
THE MARRIAGE ACT.
EDINBURGH: PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
1820.
* Crazy Jane
* Gude Forgi'e Me for Liein'
* Down the Burn Davie
* Corn Riggs Are Bonny
* The Birks of Invermay
* The Marriage Act
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Moment Aurora

"The moment Aurora had peept into the room"
* "The Moment Aurora", in Beneath the Willow Tree (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Stirling
* "The Moment Aurora", in The Folly and Fashion of the Present Time (1802), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
# The Folly and Fashion of the Present Time (1802, Glasgow)/The Moment Aurora

THE MOMENT AURORA.
THE moment Aurora peept into the room,
I put on my clothes and I call'd for my groom, Will Whisde by this had uncoupl'd the hounds, Who lively and mettlesome frisk'd o'er the grounds,
The horses are saddl'd, fleet Dapple and Gray, Seem'd longing to hear the glad found, Hark away!
It was now by the clock about four in the morn, And we all gallop'd off to the sound of the horn, Dick Garter, Will Babble, and Tom at the Goose, When all of a sudden out stars Mistress Puss, Men, horses, and dogs not a moment would stay, And echo was heard to cry, Hark! hark away.
The chace was a fine one, she took o'er the plain, Which she doubled, and doubled again, Till at last she took covert, return'd out of breath, And I and Will Whistle were in at the death; There in triumph of joy! the hare did display, And call'd to the horn my boys, Hark! hark away!
GLASGOW, Printed by J. and M Robertson, Saltmarket, 1802.
# Heaving of the Lead (1825)/From the white-blossom'd sloe

THE THORN.
From the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested, A sprig her fair breast to adorn: No, by heaven! I exclaim'd, may I perish, If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.
Then I show'd her a ring, and implor'd her to marry, She blush'd like the dawning of morn,
Yes, I'll consent, she reply'd, if you'll promise, That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn. No, by heaven! &c.
FINIS.
# Bessy Bell & Mary Gray/From the white blossom'd sloe

THE THORN.
From the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested, A sprig her fair breast to adorn: No, by heaven! I exclaim’d, may I perish, If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.
Then I show'd her a ring, and implor'd her to marry, She blush'd like the dawning of morn; Yes, I‘ll consent, she reply‘d, if you‘ll promise, That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn. No, by Heaven, &c.
FINIS.
# Bessy Bell & Mary Gray/The spotless maid

THE SPOTLESS MAID
The spotless maid is like the blooming rose, Which on its native stem unsully'd grows; But if some hand the tender stalk invades, Lost its colour and its beauty fades.
Whoever leaves a virtuous maid behind, Tho' distant—still he views her in his mind; Reflection tells, that absence must improve The dear delight of meeting those we love.
# Bessy Bell & Mary Gray/Hae you seen, in the calm dewy morning

THE LASSIE I LOO BEST OF A’.
Hae you seen, in the calm dewy morning, The red-breast wild warbling sae c'ear; Or the low-dwelling, snow-breasted gowan, Surcharg'd wi’ mild e'ening's soft tear?— O, then you hae seen my dear lassie, The lassie I loo best of a’; But far frae the hame o‘ my ⟨lassie⟩, I'm monie a lang mile awa.
Her hair is the wing o' the blackbird, Her eye is the eye o’ the dove, Her lips are the ripe blushing rose bud, Her bosom's the palace of love! Tho' green by thy banks, O sweet Clutha, Thy beauties ne’er charm me ava; ​Forgive me, ye maids of sweet ⟨Clutha⟩, My heart is we her that's awa.
O love thou'rt a dear fleeting pleasure; The sweetest we mortals here know; But soon is thy heav'n, bright beaming, O'ercast with the darkness of wo. As the moon, on the oft-changing ocean, Delights the lone mariner's eye, Till red rush the storms of the desert, And dark billows tumble on high.
# Bessy Bell & Mary Gray/Andro and his cutty gun

ANDRO AND HIS CUTTY GUN
She took me in, she set me down, She hecht to keep me lawin free But wylie Catlin that she was, She gart me birl my bawbee.
​Blythe, blythe, blythe was she, Blythe was she butt and ben; Weel she loo'd a Hawick ⟨gill⟩, And leugh to see a tappit hen.
I loo'd the liquor weel enough, But waes my heart my cash ran done, Lang or I had quench’d my drouth, And laith was I to pawn my shoon; Blythe, &c.
When we had three times toom’d the stoup, And the neist chappin new begun, Wha started in to heeze our hope, But Andro wi his cutty gun. Blythe, &c.
The Carlin brought her kebbuck ben, And girdle-cakes weel toasted brown, Weel did the cannie kimmer ken, It gart the swats gae glibber down. Blythe, &c.
We ca'd the bicker aft about, Till dawin we ne’er jeed our bum; And ay the cleanest drinker out Was Andro wi‘ his cutty gun. Blythe, &c.
He did like onie mavis sing, While she below his oxter sat; ​He ca‘d her ay his bonnie thing, And monie a sappy kiss she gat. Blythe, &c.
I hae been east, we hae been west, I hae been far ayont the sun, But the cleverest lad that e er I saw, Was Andro wi'his cutty gun. Blythe, &c.
# Bessy Bell & Mary Gray/Bessy Bell & Mary Gray

BESSY BELL, AND MARY GRAY.
O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, They were twa bonnie lasses; They bigg’d a house on yon burn brae, And theek’d it o'er wi’ rashes Fair Bessy Bell I ⟨lov'd⟩ yestreen, And thought I ne’er could alter; But Mary Gray’s twa pawky een, They gar my fancy falter.
Now Bessy s hair's like a lint=tap, She smiles like a May morning, When Phœbus darts frae Thetis' lap, The hills with rays adorning: White is her neck, saft is her hand, Her waist and feet's fu‘ genty; With ilka grace she can command, Her lips, O wow, they’re dainty.
And Mary's locks are like a craw, Her een like diamonds glances: She’s ay sae clean, redd up, and braw, She kills whene’er she dances; Blythe as a kid, with wit at will, She blooming, tight, and tall is, And guides her airs sae gracefu’ still, O Jove, she’s like my Pallas.
​⟨Dear⟩ Bessy Bell and Mary Gray, Ye unco sair oppress us; ⟨Our⟩ fancies jee between us twae, Ye are sic bonnie lasses; Waes me, for baith I canna get, To ane by law we're stented; Then I'll draw cuts, and tak my fate, And be with ane contented.
# Bessy Bell & Mary Gray

Bessy Bell & Mary Gray
Blythe arouud the nappy,
Andro and his cutty gun,
Hae you seen, in the
calm dewy morning,
⟨THE⟩ SPOTLESS MAID,
AND
⟨From⟩ the white blossom'd sloe.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
1818
* Bessy Bell & Mary Gray
* Blythe around the nappy
* Andro and his cutty gun
* Hae you seen, in the calm dewy morning
* The spotless maid
* From the white blossom'd sloe
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Robin Adair (1818)/Robin Adair

Robin Adair.
What's this dull town to me? Robin's not near: What was't I wish'd to see? What wish'd too hear? Where's all the joy and mirth, Made this town a heaven on earth: Oh! they are all fled with thee, Robin Adair.
What made the assembly shine? Robin Adair What made the ball so fine? Robin was there. What, when the play was o'er, What made my heart so sore? Oh! it was parting with Robin Adair.
But now thou'rt cold to me, Robin Adair. But now thou'rt cold to me, Robin Adair. Yet him I lov'd so well, Still in my heart shall dwell; ​Oh! I can ne'er forget Robin Adair.
# Robin Adair (1818)/A New Way of Waterloo

MY MERRY HEARTS OF GOLD.
Tune-Whistle o'er the lave o't
To you my merry hearts of gold, British valour must be told, Victorious Britain ever bold, Again we must review, man. The rebel-tyrant and his train, Again assembled on the plain, He thought to make those fields his ain, The plains of Waterloo, man.
Invincibles, a mighty throng, Form'd in columns great and strong, With crouded thousands lin'd along, I was daring like to view, man. No doubt he thought himself secure, From all attacks of every power, And that he'd conquer o'er and o'er, The plains of Waterloo, man.
But our hero, whom he never saw, Defensive lines did quickly draw, With hardy veterans, heroes a', And every one a true man.
​Then the lofty colours fly, Thousands wounded, thousands die, They made him rue that he came nigh The plains of Waterloo man.
Brave Wellington, with sword in hand. His gallant heroes did command, They soon did beat the rebel band, And made their hero run, man: In battle where his noble grace, Did shew his dauntless warlike face, Then Boney did commence his race, And fled from Waterioo, man.
Many a race he's run indeed, This seems to be his only creed, Ay by his heels to save his head, Ye ken that's naething new, man. From Egypt's land he ran awa', And from Moscow amang the snaw, From Leipsic too; what he could claw, And now from Waterloo, man.
New where's the crowns that he did wear; And where the sceptre and the spear; Ah, where are a' his friends so dear; I think they are but few, man.
The bloody car he drew in vain Across yon bonný verdant plain: ​But he will never try again The plains of Waterloo, man.
# Robin Adair (1818)/The Thorn

The Thorn.
From the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested, A sprig her fair breast to adorn. From the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested, A sprig her fair breast to adorn. So by heav'ns I exclaim'd may I perish, If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn. So by heav'ns I exclaim'd may I perishih, If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.
When I shew'd her a ring and implor'd her to marry, She blush'd like the dawning of morn. When I shew'd her a ring and implor'd her to marry, She blush'd like the dawning of morn. Yes I'll consent, she reply'd, if you'll promrise, That no jealous rival shall daugh me to scorn. So by heav'ns I exclaim'd may I perish, If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.
# Robin Adair (1818)/Highland Mary

Highland Mary.
Ye banks and braes, and streams around The castle of Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, {[em}}Your waters never drumlie. There summer first unfaulds her robes, And there they langest tarry, For there I took the last farewell Of my dear Highland Mary.
How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom; As underneath the fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom. The golden hours, on angel wings, Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life, Was my dear Highland Mary.
Wi‘mony a vow and lock'd embrace, Our parting was fu' tender; ​And pledging aft to meet again, We tore ourselves asunder. But oh, fell death's untimely frost, That nipt my flower so early; Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay That wraps my Highland Mary.
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly; And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance
That dwalt on me sae kindly. And mouldering now in silent dust, That heart that lo'ed me dearly; But still within my bosom's core, Shall live my Highland Mary.
FINIS.
# The Thorn

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Thorn"
* sister projects: Wikidata item
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* "The Thorn", a poem by Joyce Kilmer
* "The Thorn", a song by John O'Keeffe and William Shield
* "The Thorn", a poem by William Wordsworth
# The Lover's Songster/The Thorn

The Thorn.
FROM the white blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested
A sprig her dear breast to adorn;
No, by heav'ns! I exclaim'd, may I perish,
If ever I plant in that bosom a thorn.
Then I shew'd her a ring, and implor'd her to marry,
She blush'd like the dawning of morn;
Yes, I'll consent, she replied, if you promise,
That no jealous rival shall laugh me to scorn.
No, by heav'ns! &c.
# From the white-blossom'd sloe

"From the white-blossom'd sloe my dear Chloe requested"
* "From the white blossom'd sloe", in Bessy Bell & Mary Gray (1818), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "The Thorn", in Robin Adair (1818), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
* "From the white-blossom'd sloe", in Heaving of the Lead (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Thorn", in The Lover's Songster (n.d.), a chapbook printed in Newcastle
# The Birks of Invermay (1815)/The Peck o' Maut

WILLIE BREW'D A PECK O' MAUT.
O Willie brew'd a peck o' maut, And Rab and Allan cam to prie; Three blyther lads that lee lang night, Ye wdna fand in Christendie.
We are na fou, we're na that fou, But just a wee drap in our ee; The cock may craw the day may daw But ay we'll taste the barley bree.
Here are we met, three merry boys, Three merryboys I trow are we; And mony a canty night we've seen, And mony mae we hope to see. We are na fou, &c.
​It is the moon I ken her horn, That's blinkin in the lift sae hie; She shines sae bright to wyle us hame, But by my sooth she'll wait a wee We are na fou, &c.
Wha first shall rise to gang awa, A cuckold coward loon is he! Wha last beside his chair shall fa', He shall be king amang us three. We are na fou, &c.
# The Birks of Invermay (1815)/Bruce's Address

BRUCE'S ADDRESS.
Scots wha hae wi' Wallace Bled, Scots wham Bruce has aften led, Welcome to your gory ded, Or to glorious victory. Now's the day and now's the hour, See the front of battle lour, See approach proud Edward's power, Edward, chains, and slavery.
Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha wad fill a cowards grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Traitor, coward, turn and flee. Wha for Scotland's king and law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw;- Freeman stand or freeman fa’, Caledonians, on wi me.
​By oppression's woes and pains, By your sons in servile chains, We will drain our dearest veins, But they shall be-shall be free Lay the proud usurper low, Tyrants fall in every foe; Liberty's in every blow; Forward-let us do or die.
# The Birks of Invermay (1815)/Go Where Glory Waits Thee

GO WHERE GLORY WAITS THEE.
Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me, When the praise thou meetest, To thine ear is sweetest, Oh! then remember me. Other arms may press thee, Dearer friends caress thee, All the joys that bless thee, Sweeter far may be; But when friends are nearest, And when joys are dearest, Oh! then remember me.
​When at eve thou rovest, By the star thou lovest, Oh! then remember me. Think when home returning, Bright we’ve seen it burning. Oh! then remember me. Oft as summer closes, When thine eye reposes On its ling’ring roses, Once so lov’d by thee: Think on her who wove them, Her who made thee love them, Oh! then remember me.
When around thee dying, Autumn leaves are lying, Oh! then remember me. And, at night, when gazing On the gay hearth blazing, Oh! then remember me. Then should music stealing All the soul of feeling, To thy heart appealing, Draw one tear from thee; Then let memory bring thee, Strains I us’d to sing thee, Oh! then remember me.
# The Birks of Invermay (1815)/The Birks of Invermay

THE BIRKS OF INVERMAY
The smiling morn, the breathing spring Invite the tuneful birds to sing, And while they warble from each spray Love melts the universal lay, Let us, Amanda, timely wise, Like them improve the hour that flies, And in soft raptures waste the day, Amang the birks of Invermay.
For soon the winter of the year, And age, life's winter, will appear; At this thy living bloom will fade, As that will strip the verdant shade; Our taste of pleasure then is o'er, The feather'd songsters are no more; And when they droop, and we decay, Adieu the birks of Invermay.
Behold the hills and vales around, With lowing herds and flocks abound, The wanton kids, and frisking lambs, Gambol and dance about the dams; The busy bees, with humming noise, And all the reptile kind rejoice. ​Let us, like them, then sing and play About the birks of Invermay.
Hark, how the waters, as they fall, Loudly my love to gladness call, The wanton waves sport in the beams, And fishes play throughout the streams; The circling sun does now advance, And all the planets round him dance: Let us as jovial be as they, Amang the birks of Invermay.
# The Birks of Invermay (1815)

The Birks of Invermay.
Go where glory waits thee.
Lash'd to the Helm.
Bruce's Address.
THE PECK O' MAUT.
Edinburgh, Printed for the Booksellers.
* The Birks of Invermay
* Go Where Glory Waits Thee
* Lash'd to the Helm
* Bruce's Address
* The Peck o' Maut
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dugald MacTaggart (2)

Dugald MacTaggart.
The Last Rose of Summer.
⟨I⟩ have parks, I have grounds.
I'll think on thee, my love.
Love's blind, they say.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR THE BOOKSELLERS.
* Dugald MacTaggart
* The last rose of summer
* I have parks, I have grounds
* I'll think on thee, my love
* Love's blind, they say
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Battle of Sheriff Muir

The Battle of Sheriff Muir.
To, which are added,
Scotia's Sons,
Lilies of the Valley,
The Woodpecker,
Young Allan.
EDINBURGH; Printed for the Booksellers in Town and Country.
1823.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse