Gie Me Ae Spark O' Nature's Fire,

I Waive The Quantum O' The Sin, The Hazard Of Concealing; But, Och! It Hardens A' Within, And Petrifies The Feeling!

Ye Hypocrites, Are These Your Pranks To Murder Men And Gie God Thanks Desist For Shame, Proceed No Further God Won't Accept Your Thanks For Murder.

To See Her Is To Love Her, And Love But Her Forever; For Nature Made Her What She Is, And Never Made Anither!

Then Gently Scan Your Brother Man, Still Gentler Sister Woman; Though They May Gang A Kennin' Wrang, To Step Aside Is Human.

Not The Bee Upon The Blossom, In The Pride O' Sunny Noon; Not The Little Sporting Fairy, All Beneath The Simmer Moon; Not The Poet, In The Moment Fancy Lightens In His E'e, Kens The Pleasure, Feels The Rapture, That Thy Presence Gi'es To Me.