Epistle To Davie, A Brother Poet(7/11)
re wha sit, hae met wi' some—
an's thankfu' for them yet.
they gie the wit of age to youth;
they let us ken oursel';
they make us see the ruth,
the real guid and ill:
tho' losses an' crosses
be lessht severe,
there's wit there, ye'll get there,
ye'll find her where.
but tent me, davie, ace o' hearts!
(to say aught less wad wrang the cartes,
and ftt'ry i detest)
this life has joys for you and i;
an' joys that riches ne'er could buy,
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