to a mountain daisy,
on turning down with the plough, in april, 1786.
wee, modest crimson-tipped flow'r,
thou's met me in an evil hour;
for i maun crush amang the stoure
thy sleem:
to spare thee now is past my pow'r,
thou bonie gem.
as! it's no thy neibor sweet,
the bonie rk, panio,
bending thee 'mang the dewy weet,
wi' spreckl'd breast!
when upward-springing, blythe, to greet
the purpli.
cauld blew the bitter-biting north
upon thy early, humble birth;
yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
amid the st
To A Mountain Daisy,(1/4)