Wild Flowers
The wild wee flowers that I hae pu’d,
While yet a glaiket wean,
Come kindly forth, an’ rise, an’ peep
On memory’s path again;
And I can feel, but canna tell
The pleasures ye hae gi’en.
Your beautious tints, and gratefu’ smell
Wee wild flowers o’ the green.
The garden flowers may bloom mair braw,
And flaunt wi’ gaudier show,
But cottar weans can only fa’
What nature can bestow.
The daisy fair—the primrose pale,
By them are cheaply seen;
For you, our love can never fail,
Wee wild flowers o’ the green.
And when I miss ye, wild wee flowers,
Upo’ the wintry plain,
I think aboot the by-gane hours,
Our sunny days again;
And liken ye to ither things
That come wi’ semblance meet,
The joys that love or friendship brings,
Sae fleeting an’ sae sweet!
My simmer frien’s they smil’d an seem’d
like flowers alang the lea,
And I was glad and little deem’d
Their love was born to dee—
They pass’d me in the crowded street
Wi’ cold averted e’en,
Then doubly sweet, it was to meet
The wee flowers o’ the green.
A short leev’d pleasure yet ye gie,
A pleasure without sin,
That warms my heart an’ wins mine e’e
Tho’ haflins cauld au’ blin’;
And, oh! that I could feel an’ see
As I hae felt an’ seen,
Your beauty an’ simplicity,
Wee wild flowers o’ the green.
From Miscellaneous Pieces, by Thomas Beggs, Glenwhirry, 1819
