112 
THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
FRAGMENT. 
BY CGWPER. 
Some clothe the soil that feeds them, far diffused 
And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair, 
Like virtue, thriving most where little seen; 
Some more aspiring catch the neighbour shrub 
With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch, 
Else unadorn’d, with many a gay festoon, 
And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well 
The strength they borrow with the grace they lend 
TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY, 
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH, 
BY BURNS. 
Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flower, 
Thou’st met me in an evil hour; 
For I maun crush among the stour 
Thy slender stem; 
To spare thee now is past my power, 
Thou bonnie gem. 
