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.