O'er a' the ills o' life victorious.

Tam o' Shanter.

But pleasures are like poppies spread,

You seize the flower, its bloom is shed;

Or, like the snow-fall in the river,

A moment white, then melts forever.

Tam o' Shanter.

Nae man can tether time or tide.[451:1]

Tam o' Shanter.

That hour, o' night's black arch the keystane.