William Wordsworth.
O WAD SOME POWER.
O Wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursel's as others see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us
An' foolish notion;
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
And ev'n devotion!
Robert Burns.
SPRING.
Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring;
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!