Classic Poem

I bring nae rose, or lily fair,
To twine amang thy gowden hair,
Nor fragrant flower, nor scented wreath,
To mingle wi' thy balmy breath;
But frae the green banks o' the burn
I bring thy mate the Lady Fern.

The Lady Fern, whase slender stalk
Alane can peer thy genty mak,
The Lady Fern, whase gracefu' air,
Wi' thine alane can e'er compare,
O whaur may Nature meekness learn?
Frae thee an' frae the Lady Fern.

The broom adorns, an' crowns the brae,
The whin o'ertaps the rocklet grey;
The heath blooms brichtest on the hill,
An' a' wad fain climb heigher still;
While in the shade thou lo'est to dern
Beside thy mate the Lady Fern.