' 





Alas! its no thy neebor sweet, 

 The bonie larke, companion meet ! 

 Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! 



Wi' speckl'd breast, 

 When upward-springing, blythe, to greet 



The purpling East. 



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 shelf ring woods and was maun shield; 

 But thou, beneath the random bield 



O' clod or stane, 

 Adorns the histie stibble-field, 



Unseen, alane. 



There, in thy scanty mantle clad, 

 Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, 

 Thou lifts thy unassuming head 



In humble guise; 

 But now the share uptears thy bed, 



And low thou lies. 



Burns. 



April 1, the Anemony flowers. 



The Wood Anemony (Anemone nemorosa) flowers when the twittering swallow first makes 

 her appearance, and still, like the other spring flowers, it presents us with the delicate white 

 petal, but much increased in magnitude, and only expands these, according to ancient obser- 



1*11 not shed her blood, 



Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, 

 And smooth as monumental alabaster; 

 Yet she must die, or she'll betray more men. 

 Put out the light, and then 



meaning his resolve to smother her. As Othello approaches the two candles to extinguish them, he falls into the following natural train 

 of reflections. 



Put out the light! 



If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 



I can again thy former light restore, 



Should I repent; but once put out thy light, 



Thou cunning' st pattern of excelling nature, 



I know not where is that Promethean heat, 



That can thy light re-lumine. 



When I have pluck'd thy rose, 



I cannot give it vital growth again; 



It needs must wither. 



