Epistle To Davie, A Brother Poet
f happiness hae not her seat
an' tre in the breast,
we may be wise, or rich, reat,
but never be blest;
reasures, nor pleasures
could make us happy ng;
the heart aye's the part aye
that makes us right .
thihat sic as you and i,
wha drudge an' drive thro' wet and dry,
wi' never-ceasing toil;
think ye, are we less blest than they,
wha scarcely tent us in their way,
as hardly worth their while?
as! how aft in haughty mood,
god's creatures they oppress!
or else, ing a' that's guid,
they riot in exces
Epistle To Davie, A Brother Poet(5/10)