Is there a whim-inspired fool, <br />Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, <br />Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool, <br />Let him draw near; <br />And owre this grassy heap sing dool, <br />And drap a tear. <br /> <br />Is there a bard of rustic song, <br />Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, <br />That weekly this area throng, <br />O, pass not by! <br />But, with a frater-feeling strong, <br />Here, heave a sigh. <br /> <br />Is there a man, whose judgment clear <br />Can others teach the course to steer, <br />Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, <br />Wild as the wave, <br />Here pause-and, thro' the starting tear, <br />Survey this grave. <br /> <br />The poor inhabitant below <br />Was quick to learn the wise to know, <br />And keenly felt the friendly glow, <br />And softer flame; <br />But thoughtless follies laid him low, <br />And stain'd his name! <br /> <br />Reader, attend! whether thy soul <br />Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, <br />Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, <br />In low pursuit: <br />Know, prudent, cautious, self-control <br />Is wisdom's root.<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-bard-s-epitaph/
