“Lo, the book I hold here,
In the city cold here !

I hold it with a gentle hand and love it as I may;
Lo, the weary moments!
Lo, the icy comments!
And lo, false Fortune's knife of gold swift-lifted up to slay!

Has the strife no ending?
Has the song no meaning?

Linger I, idle as of old, while men are reaping or gleaning?”

"To David in Heaven", St. 9.
Undertones (1883)

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Robert Williams Buchanan 18
Scottish poet, novelist and dramatist 1841–1901

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