>o, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! >it seems she hangs upon the cheek of night >like a rich jewel in an ethiope's ear; >beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
Robert Burns >But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, >In proving foresight may be vain; >The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men >Gang aft agley, >An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, >For promis'd joy!
Art thou ashamed to kiss? Then wink again, And I will wink; so shall the day seem night. Love keeps his revels where there are but twain; Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight. These blue-veined violets whereon we lean Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.