“Then gently scan your brotherman,still gentler sister woman, though they may ganga kennin wrang, to step aside is human”

“But little Mouse, you are not alone,In proving foresight may be vain:The best laid schemes of mice and menGo often askew,And leave us nothing but grief and pain,For promised joy!Still you are blest, compared with me!”

“Flow gently, sweet Afton,amang thy green braes,Flow gently, I'll sing theea song in thy praise;My Mary's asleepby thy murmuring stream,Flow gently, sweet Afton,disturb not her dream.Thou stock dove whose echoresounds thro' the glen,Ye wild whistly blackbirdsin yon thorny den,Thou green crested lapwingthy screaming forbear,I charge you, disturb notmy slumbering fair.How lofty, sweet Afton,thy neighboring hills,Far mark'd with the coursesof clear winding rills;There daily I wanderas noon rises high,My flocks and my Mary'ssweet cot in my eye.How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where, wild in the woodlands,the primroses blow;There oft, as mild eveningweeps over the lea,The sweet-scented birk shadesmy Mary and me.Thy crystal stream, Afton,how lovely it glides,And winds by the cot wheremy Mary resides;How wanton thy watersher snowy feet lave,As, gathering sweet flowerets,she stems thy clear wave.Flow gently, sweet Afton,amang thy green braes,Flow gently, sweet river,the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleepby thy murmuring stream,Flow gently, sweet Afton,disturb not her dreams.”

“My love is like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June: My love is like the melody That's sweetly played in tune. How fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, Till all the seas gang dry. Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt with the sun;I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only love. And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my love, Though it were ten thousand mile.”

“In proving foresight may be vain:The best-laid schemes o' mice an' menGang aft agley,An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,For promis'd joy!”

“While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,The fate of empires and the fall of kings;While quacks of State must each produce his plan,And even children lisp the Rights of Man;Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,The Rights of Woman merit some attention.”

“Wha Is That At My Bower-Door1783Wha is that at my bower-door?O wha is it but Findlay! Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here: Indeed maun I, quo' Findlay; What mak' ye, sae like a thief? O come and see, quo' Findlay; Before the morn ye'll work mischief: Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Gif I rise and let you in- Let me in, quo' Findlay; Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din;"Indeed will I, quo' Findlay; In my bower if ye should stay- Let me stay, quo' Findlay; I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. Here this night if ye remain- I'll remain, quo' Findlay; I dread ye'll learn the gate again; Indeed will I, quo' Findlay. What may pass within this bower- Let it pass, quo' Findlay; Ye maun conceal till your last hour:Indeed will I, quo' Findlay.”