I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing; But, och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.

Now a' is done that men can do, And a' is done in vain.

The best plans of men and mice often go awry.

Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.--Robert Burns

Now simmer blinks on flowery braes, And o'er the crystal streamlet plays.

Or like the snow falls in the river, A moment white-then melts for ever . . .