human
I repeated the conversation to Scott some time afterward, and it drew forth a characteristic comment. 'Pooh!' said he, good humoredly; 'how can Campbell mistake the matter so much? Poetry goes by quality, not by bulk. My poems are mere Cairngorms, wrought up, perhaps, with a cunning hand, and may pass well in the market as long as Cairngorms are the fashion; but they are mere Scotch pebbles, after all. Now, Tom Campbell's are real diamonds, and diamonds of the first water.'
gpt
The Blue-Eyed Lassie of Burns. From another song,
human
When first I saw my Face,
gpt
But gang she east, or gang she west, 'Twixt Nith and Tweed all over, While men have eyes, or ears, or taste, She'll always find a lover.