112 THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
FRAGMENT. 
BY COWPER. 
Som* clothe the soil that feeds them, far dittused 
And lowly creeping, mpdest 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. 
