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Robert Burns
Quote #18
Stern Ruin's plowshare drives elate, Full on thy bloom.
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Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is…
Perhaps it may turn out a sang, Perhaps turn out a sermon.
O, wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as others see us! It wad frae monie a blunder free us, An' foolish notion. What airs in …
I waive the quantum o' the sin, The hazard of concealing: But, och! it hardens a' within, And petrifies the feeling!
An' there began a lang digression About the lords o' the creation.
An atheist-laugh's a poor exchange For Deity offended.
His locked, lettered, braw brass collar Showed him the gentleman an' scholar.
There's nought but care on ev'ry han', In every hour that passes, O: What signifies the life o' man, An' then she made the lasses, O.
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