A Rose-bud by my
early walk,
Adown a corn-enclosed bawk,
Sae gently bent its thorny
stalk,
All on a dewy morning.
Ere twice
the shades o' dawn are fled,
In a' its
crimson glory spread,
And drooping rich the dewy head,
It scents the
early morning.
Within the bush her covert nest
A little linnet
fondly prest;
The dew sat chilly on her breast,
Sae early
in the morning.
She soon shall see her tender brood,
The pride, the
pleasure o' the
wood,
Amang the
fresh green leaves bedew'd,
Awake the early morning.
So thou, dear
bird, young Jeany fair,
On trembling string or vocal
air,
Shall sweetly pay the tender care
That tents thy early morning.
So thou, sweet Rose-bud, young and gay,
Shalt beauteous blaze upon the
day,
And bless the parent's evening ray
That watch'd thy early
morning.
A Rose-Bud By My Early Walk
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