My Heart Is Sair-i Dare Na Tell,

All-cheering Plenty, With Her Flowing Horn, Led Yellow Autumn, Wreath'd With Nodding Corn.

When Matters Are Desperate We Must Put On A Desperate Face.

The Great Creator To Revere Must Sure Become The Creature; But Still The Preaching Cant Forbear, And Ev'n The Rigid Feature: Yet Ne'er With Wits Profane To Range Be Complaisance Extended;an Atheist Laugh's A Poor Exchange For Deity Offended.

I Want Someone To Laugh With Me, Someone To Be Grave With Me, Someone To Please Me And Help My Discrimination With His Or Her Own Remark, And At Times, No Doubt, To Admire My Acuteness And Penetration.

O Life! Thou Art A Galling Load, Along A Rough, A Weary Road, To Wretches Such As I!