In durance vile 1here must I wake and weep, And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.

All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

If there's another world, he lives in bliss; if there is none, he made the best of this.

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men, Gang aft a-gley, And leave us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy.

To step aside is human.

An atheist's laugh 's a poor exchange For Deity offended!