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

Pleasures are like poppies spread: You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed.

Good Lord, what is man! for as simple he looks, Do but try to develop his books and his crooks, With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil, All in all, he's a problem must puzzle the devil.

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

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

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

My heart is sair-I dare na tell, My heart is sair for Somebody.