Robert Burns Quotes on Sadness
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Nature's law, That man was made to mourn.
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Ye banks and braes o' bonny Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary fu' o' care! Thou'll break my heart, thou warbling bird, That wantons thro' the flowering thorn! Thou minds me o' departed joys, Departed never to return.
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Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
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In durance vile here must I wake and weep, And all my frowsy couch in sorrow steep.