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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=116563" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Epistle to James Smith</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Friendship, mysterious cement of the soul!<br>Sweet'ner of Life, and solder of Society!<br>I owe thee much-Blair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear Smith, the slee'st, pawkie thief,<br>That e'er attempted stealth or rief!<br>Ye surely hae some warlock-brief<br>Owre human hearts;<br>For ne'er a bosom yet was prief<br>Against your arts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For me, I swear by sun an' moon,<br>An' ev'ry star that blinks aboon,<br>Ye've cost me twenty pair o' shoon,<br>Just gaun to see you;<br>An' ev'ry ither pair that's done,<br>Mair taen I'm wi' you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That auld, capricious carlin, Nature,<br>To mak amends for scrimpit stature,<br>She's turn'd you off, a human creature<br>On her first plan,<br>And in her freaks, on ev'ry feature<br>She's wrote the Man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Just now I've ta'en the fit o' rhyme,<br>My barmie noddle's working prime.<br>My fancy yerkit up sublime,<br>Wi' hasty summon;<br>Hae ye a leisure-moment's time<br>To hear what's comin?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some rhyme a neibor's name to lash;<br>Some rhyme (vain thought!) for needfu' cash;<br>Some rhyme to court the countra clash,<br>An' raise a din;<br>For me, an aim I never fash;<br>I rhyme for fun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The star that rules my luckless lot,<br>Has fated me the russet coat,<br>An' damn'd my fortune to the groat;<br>But, in requit,<br>Has blest me with a random-shot<br>O'countra wit.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This while my notion's taen a sklent,<br>To try my fate in guid, black prent;<br>But still the mair I'm that way bent,<br>Something cries "Hooklie!"<br>I red you, honest man, tak tent?<br>Ye'll shaw your folly;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"There's ither poets, much your betters,<br>Far seen in Greek, deep men o' letters,<br>Hae thought they had ensur'd their debtors,<br>A' future ages;<br>Now moths deform, in shapeless tatters,<br>Their unknown pages."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then farewell hopes of laurel-boughs,<br>To garland my poetic brows!<br>Henceforth I'll rove where busy ploughs<br>Are whistlin' thrang,<br>An' teach the lanely heights an' howes<br>My rustic sang.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'll wander on, wi' tentless heed<br>How never-halting moments speed,<br>Till fate shall snap the brittle thread;<br>Then, all unknown,<br>I'll lay me with th' inglorious dead<br>Forgot and gone!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But why o' death being a tale?<br>Just now we're living sound and hale;<br>Then top and maintop crowd the sail,<br>Heave Care o'er-side!<br>And large, before Enjoyment's gale,<br>Let's tak the tide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This life, sae far's I understand,<br>Is a' enchanted fairy-land,<br>Where Pleasure is the magic-wand,<br>That, wielded right,<br>Maks hours like minutes, hand in hand,<br>Dance by fu' light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The magic-wand then let us wield;<br>For ance that five-an'-forty's speel'd,<br>See, crazy, weary, joyless eild,<br>Wi' wrinkl'd face,<br>Comes hostin, hirplin owre the field,<br>We' creepin pace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When ance life's day draws near the gloamin,<br>Then fareweel vacant, careless roamin;<br>An' fareweel cheerfu' tankards foamin,<br>An' social noise:<br>An' fareweel dear, deluding woman,<br>The Joy of joys!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O Life! how pleasant, in thy morning,<br>Young Fancy's rays the hills adorning!<br>Cold-pausing Caution's lesson scorning,<br>We frisk away,<br>Like school-boys, at th' expected warning,<br>To joy an' play.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We wander there, we wander here,<br>We eye the rose upon the brier,<br>Unmindful that the thorn is near,<br>Among the leaves;<br>And tho' the puny wound appear,<br>Short while it grieves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some, lucky, find a flow'ry spot,<br>For which they never toil'd nor swat;<br>They drink the sweet and eat the fat,<br>But care or pain;<br>And haply eye the barren hut<br>With high disdain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With steady aim, some Fortune chase;<br>Keen hope does ev'ry sinew brace;<br>Thro' fair, thro' foul, they urge the race,<br>An' seize the prey:<br>Then cannie, in some cozie place,<br>They close the day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And others, like your humble servan',<br>Poor wights! nae rules nor roads observin,<br>To right or left eternal swervin,<br>They zig-zag on;<br>Till, curst with age, obscure an' starvin,<br>They aften groan.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas! what bitter toil an' straining-<br>But truce with peevish, poor complaining!<br>Is fortune's fickle Luna waning?<br>E'n let her gang!<br>Beneath what light she has remaining,<br>Let's sing our sang.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My pen I here fling to the door,<br>And kneel, ye Pow'rs! and warm implore,<br>"Tho' I should wander Terra o'er,<br>In all her climes,<br>Grant me but this, I ask no more,<br>Aye rowth o' rhymes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Gie dreepin roasts to countra lairds,<br>Till icicles hing frae their beards;<br>Gie fine braw claes to fine life-guards,<br>And maids of honour;<br>An' yill an' whisky gie to cairds,<br>Until they sconner.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"A title, Dempster merits it;<br>A garter gie to Willie Pitt;<br>Gie wealth to some be-ledger'd cit,<br>In cent. per cent.;<br>But give me real, sterling wit,<br>And I'm content.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"While ye are pleas'd to keep me hale,<br>I'll sit down o'er my scanty meal,<br>Be't water-brose or muslin-kail,<br>Wi' cheerfu' face,<br>As lang's the Muses dinna fail<br>To say the grace."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An anxious e'e I never throws<br>Behint my lug, or by my nose;<br>I jouk beneath Misfortune's blows<br>As weel's I may;<br>Sworn foe to sorrow, care, and prose,<br>I rhyme away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O ye douce folk that live by rule,<br>Grave, tideless-blooded, calm an'cool,<br>Compar'd wi' you-O fool! fool! fool!<br>How much unlike!<br>Your hearts are just a standing pool,<br>Your lives, a dyke!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nae hair-brain'd, sentimental traces<br>In your unletter'd, nameless faces!<br>In arioso trills and graces<br>Ye never stray;<br>But gravissimo, solemn basses<br>Ye hum away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye are sae grave, nae doubt ye're wise;<br>Nae ferly tho' ye do despise<br>The hairum-scairum, ram-stam boys,<br>The rattling squad:<br>I see ye upward cast your eyes-<br>Ye ken the road!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Whilst I-but I shall haud me there,<br>Wi' you I'll scarce gang ony where-<br>Then, Jamie, I shall say nae mair,<br>But quat my sang,<br>Content wi' you to mak a pair.<br>Whare'er I gang.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+Burns">Robert Burns</a><div class=q>
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