When Chill November's Surly Blast Made Fields

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!

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

Misled By Fancy's Meteor Ray, By Passion Driven; But Yet The Light That Led Astray Was Light From Heaven.

That Hour O' Night's Black Arch The Keystane.

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.