And Wild-scatter'd Cowslips Bedeck The Green Dale.

But Mousie, Thou Art No Thy Lane In Proving Foresight May Be Vain The Best-laid Schemes O' Mice An' Men Gang Aft Agley An' Lea'e Us Nought But Grief An' Pain For Promis'd Joy!

Their Sighing, Canting, Grace-proud Faces, Their Three-mile Prayers, And Half-mile Graces.

't Is Sweeter For Thee Despairing Than Aught In The World Beside,-jessy!

Gars Auld Claes Look Amaist As Weel's The New.

The Lightly-jumping, Glowrin' Trouts, That Thro' My Waters Play.