Now Simmer Blinks On Flowery Braes, And

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

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

What's Done We Partly May Compute, But Know Not What's Resisted.

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.

Pleasures Are Like Poppies Spread: You Seize The Flow'r, Its Bloom Is Shed.