Gmblems of Flowers, 
Burns, 
DOWN winding Nith I dia wander, 
To mark the sweet flowers as they spring ! 
Adown winding Nith I did wander, 
Of Phillis to muse and to sing. 
The Daisy amused my fond fancy, 
So artless, so simple, so wild; 
Thou emblem, said I, o’ my Phillis, 
For she is simplicity’s child. 
The Rosebud’s the blush o” my charmer, 
Her sweet balmy lip when ’tis prest: 
How fair and how pure is the Lily, 
But fairer and purer her breast. 
Yon knot of gay flowers in the arbor, 
They ne’er wi’ my Phillis can vie: 
Her breath is the breath of the Woodbine, 
Its dew-drop o’ diamond her eye. 
Her voice is the song of the morning, 
That wakes through the green spreading grove, 
When Pheebus peeps over the mountains, 
On music, and pleasure, and love, 










