Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae farewell, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.

Robert Burns

I've grown out of Assol time,
Like a short, too tight skirt,
But I've become capable of doing things
And unable to believe, if you'll excuse me,
And prudence and prudence in hand,
Forget the foolish, joyous courage.
And not to scoop up the wetness of spring with my shoe,
Nor run in summer under a rain tent.