Dweller in yon dungeon dark, Hangman of creation, mark! Who in widow weeds appears, Laden with unhonoured years, Noosing with care a bursting purse, Baited with many a deadly curse?

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

I'm truly sorry man's dominion has broken Nature's social union.

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

'T is sweeter for thee despairing Than aught in the world beside,-Jessy!

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

Love's first snow-drop, virgin kiss.