And Like A Passing Thought, She Fled

To Make Three Guineas Do The Work Of Five.

The Golden Hours On Angel Wings Flew O'er Me And My Dearie, For Dear To Me As Light And Life Was My Sweet Highland Mary.

What's Done We Partly May Compute, But Know Not What's Resisted.

Beauty's Of A Fading Nature. Has A Season And Is Gone!

Some Books Are Lies Frae End To End.