To A Mountain Daisy,（2 / 2）

thou lifts thy unassuming head

in humble guise;

but now the share uptears thy bed,

and low thou lies!

such is the fate of artless maid,

sweet flow'ret of the rural shade!

by love's simplicity betray'd,

and guileless trust;

till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid

low i' the dust.

such is the fate of simple bard,

on life's rough ocean luckless starr'd!

unskilful he to note the card

of prudent lore,

till billows rage, and gales blow hard,

and whelm him o'er!

such fate to suffering worth is giv'n,

who long with wants and woes has striv'n,

by human pride or cunning driv'n

to mis'ry's brink;

till wrench'd of ev'ry stay but heav'n,

he, ruin'd, sink!

ev'n thou who mourn'st the daisy's fate,

that fate is thine—no distant date;

stern ruin's plough-share drives elate,

full on thy bloom,

till crush'd beneath the furrow's weight,

shall be thy doom!