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Complete Poems and Songs of Robert Burns


On The Birth Of A Posthumous Child
Born in peculiar circumstances of family distress.


Sweet flow'ret, pledge o' meikle love,
And ward o' mony a prayer,
What heart o' stane wad thou na move,
Sae helpless, sweet, and fair?

November hirples o'er the lea,
Chil, on thy lovely form:
And gane, alas! the shelt'ring tree,
Should shield thee frae the storm.

[Footnote 1: It is a well-known fact that witches, or any evil spirits, have
no power to follow a poor wight any further than the middle of the next
running stream. It may be proper likewise to mention to the benighted
traveller, that when he falls in with bogles, whatever danger may be in his
going forward, there is much more hazard in turning back.-R. B.]

May He who gives the rain to pour,
And wings the blast to blaw,
Protect thee frae the driving show'r,
The bitter frost and snaw.

May He, the friend o' Woe and Want,
Who heals life's various stounds,
Protect and guard the mother plant,
And heal her cruel wounds.

But late she flourish'd, rooted fast,
Fair in the summer morn,
Now feebly bends she in the blast,
Unshelter'd and forlorn.

Blest be thy bloom, thou lovely gem,
Unscath'd by ruffian hand!
And from thee many a parent stem
Arise to deck our land!

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