Nae man can ken his hert until
The tide o’ life uncovers it,
And horror-struck he sees a pit
Returnin’ life can never fill!...
Thou art the facts in ilka airt
That breenge into infinity,
Criss-crossed wi’ coontless ither facts
Nae man can follow, and o’ which
He is himsel’ a helpless pairt,
Held in their tangle as he were