Hi all,
Here is the poem =
To A Mouse
(On turning up her nest with the plough, Nov, 1785)
Wee sleekit, (sleek) cowrin, tim'rous beastie,
Oh, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi' bickerin brattle! (hasty scamper)
I wad be laith (loath) to rin an' chase thee
Wi murd'rin pattle! (spade used to remove clay from plowshare)
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal.
I doubt na, whyles, (sometimes) but thou may thieve:
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave (an occasional ear of grain in twenty-four sheaves)
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave, (remainder)
An' never miss't
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
its silly wa's the win's are strewin! (weak walls the winds are strewing)
An' naething, now, to big (build) a new ane,
O' foggage (rank grass) green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin
Baith snell an' keen! (both eager and keen)
Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An cozie here beneath the blast
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter (plowshare) past
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out for (in spite of) a' thy trouble,
But house or hald, (without house or holding)
To thole the winter's sleety dribble (endure winters sleety drizzle)
An' cranreuch (hoarfrost) cauld!
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane (not alone)
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley, (go often wrong)
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain
For promis'd joy.
Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, och! I backward cast my ee
On prospects drear!
An' forwar, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!
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I like the next to last paragraph......
Best laid schemes of mice and men - - -