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FLOEAL POESY. 
Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet. 
The bonnie lark, companion meet, 
Bending thee ’mang the dewy weet,* 
Wi’ speckled breast. 
When upward springing, blithe to greet 
The purpling east. 
Cauld blew the bitter, biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
Yet cheerfully thou glintedf forth 
Amid the storm, 
Scarce reared above the parent earth 
Thy tender form. 
The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, 
High sheltering woods and wa’sj 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 sunward spread, 
Thou lifts thy unassuming head 
In humble guise; 
But now the share uptears thy bed, 
And low thou lies ! 
Such fate to suffering worth is given, 
Who lang with wants and woes has striven, 
By human pride or cunning driven 
To misery’s brink, 
Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven, 
He ruined, sink ! 
* Weet, rain, wetness. 
\Wa’s, walls. 
\ Glinted, peeped. 
§ Random bield, casual shelter. 
