Painters And Poets Have Liberty To Lie.

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

And Let Us Mind, Faint Heart Ne'er Wan A Lady Fair. Wha Does The Utmost That He Can Will Whyles Do Mair.

Look Abroad Through Nature's Range, Nature's Mighty Law Is Change.

My Dear, My Native Soil! For Whom My Warmest Wish To Heav'n Is Sent, Long May Thy Hardy Sons Of Rustic Toil Be Blest With Health, And Peace, And Sweet Content!

Flow Gently, Sweet Afton, Among Thy Green Braes, Flow Gently, I'll Sing Thee A Song In Thy Praise.