Joanna Baillie

The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the read more

The tyrant now
Trusts not to men: nightly within his chamber
The watch-dog guards his couch, the only friend
He now dare trust.

But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.

But woman's grief is like a summer storm,
Short as it violent is.

Words of affection, howsoe'er express'd,
The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.

Words of affection, howsoe'er express'd,
The latest spoken still are deem'd the best.

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
But those who slide along the grassy sod,
read more

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
But those who slide along the grassy sod,
And sting the luckless foot that presses them?
There are who in the path of social life
Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun,
And sting the soul.

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note,
read more

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note,
Soft moves the dipping oar!