We two have paddled in the stream, from morning sun till dine; But seas between us broad have roared since days of long ago.
But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever.
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley.
There is no such uncertainty as a sure thing.
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.
But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love forever. Had we never lou'd sae kindly, Had we never lou'd sae blindly, Never met - or never parted - We had ne'er been broken hearted
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.
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The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men, Gang aft agley. An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy! (To A Mouse)
Ye Hypocrites, are these your pranks To murder men and gie God thanks Desist for shame, proceed no further God won't accept your thanks for murder.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met -- or never parted -- we had ne'er been broken-hearted
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.
Gin a body meet a body Coming thro' the rye, Gin a body kiss a body— Need a body cry?
My heart is sair-I dare na tell, My heart is sair for Somebody.
Oh would some power the giftie gie us, To see ourselves as others see us.
Some books are lies frae end to end, And some great lies were never penn'd...
My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer; A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm.--Robert Burns
And man, whose heav'n-erected face The smiles of love adorn Man's inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn!
But deep this truth impress'd my mind: Thro' all His works abroad, The heart benevolent and kind The most resembles God.
Hope Springs Exulting on Triumphant Wing.
O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us!
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us naught but grief an' pain For promised joy! Still thou art blest, compared wi' me! The present only toucheth thee:
The fear o’ hell’s a hangman’s whip to haud the wretch in order; But where ye feel your honor grip, let that aye be your border.
Then gently scan your brother man, still gentler sister woman, though they may gang a kennin wrang, to step aside is human
For a' that, an' a' that, It's coming yet for a' that, That Man to Man, the world o'er, Shall brothers be for a' that.
I am little acquainted with politeness, but I know a good deal of benevolence of temper and goodness of heart.
In proving foresight may be vain: The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men Gang aft agley, An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, For promis'd joy!
Oh the gift that god could give us, to see ourselves as others see others.
My love is like the red red rose That's newly sprung in June O my love's like the melody That's newly played in tune
Ah the power that gift would give us, to see ourselves as others see us.
Let them cant about decorum, who have characters to lose!
Before the morn ye'll work mischief:'' Indeed will I,'' quo' Findlay. -Ти май си нещо наумил. -Май нещо - каза Финдли.
Even tho who mournst the daisies fate, that fate is thine.
Critics! Appalled I ventured on the name. Those cutthroat bandits in the paths of fame.
A fig for those by law protected! Liberty's a glorious feast! Courts for cowards were erected, Churches built to please the priest!
Through and through the inspired leaves, Ye maggots, make your windings; But, oh! respect his lordship’s taste, And spare his golden bindings.
All-cheering Plenty, with her flowing horn, Led yellow Autumn, wreath'd with nodding corn." [Brigs of Ayr]
The best laid schemes o'mice an' men gang aft agley, An'lea'e us nought but grief an'pain, For promis'd joy...
I found that old Solomon proved it fair, That a big-belly'd bottle's a cure for all care.
Even thou who mournst the daisies fate, that fate is thine.
Till crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell.
Even thou who mournst the daisy's fate, that fate is thine.
Unmatch'd at the bottle, unconquer'd in war, He drank his poor god-ship as deep as the sea; No tide of the Baltic e'er drunker than he.
Ae Fond Kiss
