Scotch laird bawling "Auld Lang Syne."
Thus Raleigh's weed my fancy warms.
Life's review in smoke goes past,—
Fickle fortune, stubborn fate,
Right discovered all too late,
Beings loved and gone before,
Beings loved but friends no more,
Self-reproach and futile sighs,
Vanity in birth that dies,
Longing, heart-break, adoration,—