Welcome As The Flowers In May.

And Love Is Loveliest When Embalm'd In Tears.

Jock, When Ye Hae Naething Else To Do, Ye May Be Aye Sticking In A Tree; It Will Be Growing, Jock, When Ye 're Sleeping.

If A Faultless Poem Could Be Produced, I Am Satisfied It Would Tire The Critics Themselves; And Annoy The Whole Reading World With The Spleen.

When Israel, Of The Lord Belov'd, Out Of The Land Of Bondage Came, Her Fathers' God Before Her Mov'd, An Awful Guide In Smoke And Flame.

Adversity Is, To Me At Least, A Tonic And A Bracer.