158 FLORA AND THALIA. 



Cauld blew the bitter-biting north 

 Upon thy early, humble birth ; 

 Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth ' 



Amid the storm, 

 Scarce rear'd above the parent earth 



Thy tender form. 



The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, 

 High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield : 

 But thou, beneath the random bield 



O' clod or stane, 

 Adorns the higtie stibble-field. 



Unseen, alane. 



There in thy scanty mantle clad. 

 Thy snawy bosom sunward spread, 

 Thou lifts thy unassuming head 



In humble guise ! 

 But now the share up-tears thy bed. 



And low thou Hes ! 



Such is the fate of artless maid. 

 Sweet flow'ret of the rural shade ! 

 By love's simplicity betray'd. 



And guileless trust; 

 Till she, like thee, all soil'd is laid 



Low i' the dust. 



