Classic and Contemporary Poetry
ON SEEING A VERY EARLY PRIMROSE, by THOMAS KENNEDY First Line: Why come ye sae early, my bonnie wee flow'r? Last Line: Take another short nap and lie still. Subject(s): Flowers; Primroses | ||||||||
WHY come ye sae early, my bonnie wee flow'r? Sleety blasts drive and darken the sky; And patches o' snaw That are sweer, sweer awa', On the moss-cushion'd cradle yet lie, sweet flow'r; O ye've wauken'd I fear but to die. Gae back to thy slumbers, my bonnie wee flow'r; The pleasures thy beauty should gie Are banish'd wi' pain, For the snaw, sleet, and rain, Blears thy tender and delicate e'e, sweet flow'r, And ye look as ane weeping to me. Loud and harsh roars the burn, my bonnie wee flow'r, And its waters dash drumlie alang; Gae back to repose Till it cannier flows, It will wauken ye then wi'a sang, sweet flow'r, And the saft winds will then make thee strang. O then ye'll be welcome, my bonnie wee flow'r, When the dour drizzling winter's awa -- When the thorn and brier spread Their young leaves o'er thy head, And the sunbeams wi' blessings aye fa', sweet flow'r, In the nooks where ye bonnilie blaw. Then bairnies will seek thee, my bonnie wee flow'r, In the woods, in the glens, and the dells. They love when ye come To carry thee home, Blooming, spotless, and pure like themsel's, sweet flow'r, As an emblem that summer foretells. For dear are thy blossoms, my bonnie wee flow'r, To auld age that can never mair be In the woods and the fields, The bow'rs and the bields, Where thy kindred grow gladsome and free, sweet flow'r, And the birds carol sweet in their glee. Then gae back to thy slumbers, my bonnie wee flow'r, Fierce winter yet whitens the hill, But it winna be lang, For he kens he maun gang, Then let na his spite do thee ill, sweet flow'r, Take another short nap and lie still. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EVENING PRIMROSE by JOHN CLARE THE PRIMROSE by ROBERT HERRICK TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 6. SPRING by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM TO A PRIMROSE by EDNA S. CODDINGTON TO A TEXAS PRIMROSE by OLIVE TILFORD DARGAN THE PRAYER OF THE BRUCE by THOMAS KENNEDY |
|