All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.
But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou'd sae kindly, Had we never lou'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted - We had ne'er been broken hearted
The lightly-jumping, glowrin' trouts, That thro' my waters play.
O, my luve is like a red, red rose.
A mind that is conscious of its integrity scorns to say more than it means to perform.
Why has a religious turn of mind always a tendency to narrow and harden the heart?