Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flow’r,

Thou’s met me in an evil hour;

For I maun crush amang the stoure

            Thy slender stem:

To spare thee now is past my pow’r,

            Thou bonie gem.

Alas! it’s no thy neibor sweet,

The bonie lark, companion meet,

Bending thee ‘mang the dewy weet

            Wi’ spreck’d breast,

When upward-springing, blythe, to greet

            The purpling east.