Robert Burns

But pleasures are like poppies spread;
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed.
Or like the read more

But pleasures are like poppies spread;
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed.
Or like the snow falls in the river,
A moment white--then melts forever.

All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.

All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn,
Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn.

Some hae meat, and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, read more

Some hae meat, and canna eat,
And some wad eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
from the poem
The Cotter’s Saturday Night.

And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.

And like a passing thought, she fled
In light away.