Gars Auld Claes Look Amaist As Weel's

Now Simmer Blinks On Flowery Braes, And O'er The Crystal Streamlet Plays.

But Pleasures Are Like Poppies Spread, You Seize The Flower, It's Bloom Is Shed; Or, Like The Snow-fall In The River, A Moment White, Then Melts Forever.

But Facts Are Chiels That Winna Ding, An' Downa Be Disputed.

But Deep This Truth Impressed My Mind — Thro' All His Works Abroad, The Heart Benevolent And Kind The Most Resembles God.

Even Thou Who Mournst The Daisy's Fate, That Fate Is Thine--no Distant Date; Stern Ruin's Ploughshare Drives, Elate, Full On Thy Bloom, Till Crushed Beneath The Furrow's Weight Shall Be Thy Doom!