O, My Luve Is Like A Red,

Such Is The Fate Of Simple Bard, On Life's Rough Ocean Luckless Starr'd

If Heaven A Draught Of Heavenly Pleasure Spare, One Cordial In This Melancholy Vale, 't Is When A Youthful, Loving, Modest Pair In Other's Arms Breathe Out The Tender Tale

Some Books Are Lies Frae End To End.

O, Life! How Pleasant Is Thy Morning, Young Fancy's Rays The Hills Adorning! Cold Pausing Caution's Lesson Scorning, We Frisk Away, Like Schoolboys, At The Expected Warning, To Joy And Play.

I Look On The Opposite Sex With Something Like The Admiration With Which I Regard The Starry Sky On A Frosty December Night. I Admire The Beauty Of The Creator's Workmanship, I Am Charmed With The Wild But Graceful Eccentricity Of The Motions, And Then I Wish Both Of Them Goodnight.