The Kiss

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  “Ryabovitch pulled the bed-clothes over his head, curled himself up in bed, and tried to gather together the floating images in his mind and to combine them into one whole. But nothing came of it. He soon fell asleep, and his last thought was that someone had caressed him and made him happy—that something extraordinary, foolish, but joyful and delightful, had come into his life. The thought did not leave him even in his sleep. When he woke up the sensations of oil on his neck and the chill of peppermint about his lips had gone, but joy flooded his heart just as the day before.” The Kiss By Anton Chekhov (1860–1904)

“There'll Never Be Peace Till Jamie Comes Hame” by Robert Burns (1759 - 1796) (written of King James VIII)

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By yon castle wa' at the close of the day, 

I heard a man sing, tho his head it was grey, 

And as he was singing, the tears doon came - 

'There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!'

'The Church is in ruins, the State is in jars, 

Delusion, oppressions, and murderous wars, 

We dare na weel sayl but we ken wha's to blame 

There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

'My seven braw sons for Jamie drew sword, 

But now I greet round their green beds in the yerd; 

It brak the sweet heart o my faithfu auld dame - 

There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!

'Now life is a burden that bows me down, 

Sin I tint my bairns, and he tint his crown; 

But till my last moments my words are the same - 

There'll never be peace till Jamie comes hame!'

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