80 
rOETRY OF FLOWERS. 
Alas ! it’s no thy neebor sweet, 
The bonnie Lark, companion meet! - 
Bending thee ’mang the dewy weet! 
Wi’ speckled breast. 
When upward springing, blythe to greet 
The purplin east. 
Canid blew the bitter biting north 
Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 
Amid the storm. 
Scarce reared above the parent earth 
Thy tender form. 
The flaunting flowers our gardens yield. 
High sheltering woods and wa’s maun shield 
But thou, beneath the random bield 
O’ clod or stane, 
Adorn’st the histie stibble-field, 
Unseen, alane. 
There in the scanty mantle clad, 
Thy showy bosom sunward spread, 
Thou lift’st thy unassuming head 
In humble guise: 
But now the share uptears thy bed. 
And low thou lies! 
Such is the fate of artless maid. 
Sweet flowret of the rui'al shade ! 
