"As in the bosom of the stream The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en; So, trembling, pure, was tender love, Within the breast o' bonnie Jean." "The sun had clos'd the winter day, The Curlers quat their roarin play, An' hunger's Maukin ta'en her way To kail-yards green, While faithless snaws ilk step betray Whare she had been." "O, sweet are Coila's haughs an' woods, When lintwhites chant amang the buds, And jinkin' hares, in amorous whids, Their loves enjoy, While thro' the braes the cushat croons Wi' wailfu' cry!" "Ev'n winter bleak has charms to me When winds rave thro' the naked tree; Or frosts on hills of Ochiltree Are hoary gray; Or blinding drifts wild-furious flee, Dark'ning the day!" This of the lark and daisy--the daintiest and nearest perfect in our language: "Alas! it's no' thy neebor sweet, The bonnie Lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east." A REAL DEMOCRAT. He was in every fibre of his being a sincere democrat. He was a believer in the people--in the sacred rights of man. He believed that honest peasants were superior to titled parasites. He knew the so-called "gentrv" of his time. In one of his letters to Dr. Moore is this passage: "It takes a few dashes into the world to give the young great man that proper, decent, unnoticing disregard for the poor, insignificant, stupid devils--the mechanics and peasantry around him--who were born in the same village." He knew the infinitely cruel spirit of caste--a spirit that despises the useful--the children of toil--those who bear the burdens of the world. "If I'm design'd yon lordling's slave, By nature's law design'd, Why was an independent wish E'er planted in my mind? If not, why am I subject to . His cruelty, or scorn? Or why has man the will and pow'r To make his fellow mourn?" Against the political injustice of his time--against the artificial distinctions among men by which the lowest were regarded as the highest--he protested in the great poem, "A man's a man for a' that," every line of which came like lava from his heart. "Is there, for honest poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that? The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that! For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that; The rank is but the guinea stamp; The man's the gowd for a' that." "What tho' on hamely fare we dine, Wear hodden-gray, and a' that; Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine, A man's a man for a' that. For a' that, and a' that, Their tinsel show, and a' that; The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, Is king o' men for a' that."