A gallery of famous English and American poets . U get thy fairin! In hell theyll roast thee like a herrin ! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu woman! Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg, And win the keystane of the brig; There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they darena cross! But ere the keystane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake! For l!Tannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie pressed, And flew at Tam wi farious ettle; But little wist she Maggies mettle— Ae spring brought off her master hale. But left behind her ain gray tail: T
A gallery of famous English and American poets . U get thy fairin! In hell theyll roast thee like a herrin ! In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin! Kate soon will be a woefu woman! Now do thy speedy utmost, Meg, And win the keystane of the brig; There at them thou thy tail may toss, A running stream they darena cross! But ere the keystane she could make, The fient a tail she had to shake! For l!Tannie, far before the rest, Hard upon noble Maggie pressed, And flew at Tam wi farious ettle; But little wist she Maggies mettle— Ae spring brought off her master hale. But left behind her ain gray tail: The carlin claught her by the rump. And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o truth shall read,Ilk man and mothers son, take heed;Wheneer to drink you are cutty-sarks run in your mind,Think! ye may buy the joys oer dear—Kemember Tam o Shanters mare. MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. Ill MAN WAS MADE TO MOURN. When chill Novembers surly blastMade fields and forests bare, One evening, as I wandered forthAlong the banks of Ayr,. I spied a man wnose aged stepSeemed weary, worn with care; His face was furrowed oer with years,And hoary was his hair. 112 BURNS. Young stranger, whither wanderest thou? Began the reverend sage ;Does thirst of wealth thy step constrain, Or youthful pleasures rage ?Or haply, pressed with cares and woes, Too soon thou hast beganTo wander forth, with me to mourn The miseries of man. The sun that overhangs yon moors, Out-spreading far and wide,Where hundreds labor to support A haughty lordlings pride:Ive seen yon weary winter sun Twice forty times return,And every time has added proofs That man was made to mourn. 0 man! while in thy early years. How prodigal of time!Misspending all thy precious hours. Thy glorious youthful prime!Alternate follies take the sway; Licentious passions burn;Which tenfold force gives natures law, That man was made to mourn. Look not alone on youthful prime. Or manhoods active might;Man then is useful to his kind
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksu, booksubjectenglishpoetry
