If There's Another World, He Lives In

But Deep This Truth Impressed My Mind — Thro' All His Works Abroad, The Heart Benevolent And Kind The Most Resembles God.

Not The Bee Upon The Blossom, In The Pride O' Sunny Noon; Not The Little Sporting Fairy, All Beneath The Simmer Moon; Not The Poet, In The Moment Fancy Lightens In His E'e, Kens The Pleasure, Feels The Rapture, That Thy Presence Gi'es To Me.

At Length His Lonely Cot Appears In View, Beneath The Shelter Of An Aged Tree; Th' Expectant Wee-things, Toddling, Stacher Thro' To Meet Their Dad, Wi' Flichterin Noise An' Glee.

O, My Luve Is Like A Red, Red Rose.

Here's To Us, Who's Like Us Damn Few, And They're All Dead.