for beauty which found expression in all his poetry. On account of failing health he went to Rome in 1820, where he died the year following.

Words and Phrases for Discussion.

"o'erhanging sallows" 'chequer'd shadows' "ringdove's cooings"

"rushy banks’’

TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY

ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOW.

ROBERT BURNS.

1

Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flow'r,
Thou's met me in an evil hour;
For I maun crush amang the stoure
Thy slender stem.

To spare thee now is past my pow'r,
Thou bonnie gem.

2

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,

The bonnie Lark, companion meet!
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet!
Wi' speckl'd breast,

When upward-springing, blythe, to greet
The purpling east.

3

Cauld blew the bitter-biting north
Upon thy early, humble birth;
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,

Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth
Thy tender form.

4

The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield,
High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield,
But thou, beneath the random bield

O' clod or stane,

Adorns the histie stibble-field,

Unseen, alane.

5

There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snawie bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise;

But now the share uptears thy bed,
And low thou lies!

6

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!

Biographical: Robert Burns, 1759-1796, was a Scottish poet. His life was short and filled with poverty and hardship, but he saw beauty in the common things of life and had a heart full of sympathy. He wrote this poem at a time when he was in great trouble. His farm was turning out badly, the soil was sour and wet, his crops were failures and he saw nothing but ruin before him.

TO THE DANDELION.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

1

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold,

First pledge of blithesome May,

Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold, High-hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they An Eldorado in the grass have found,

Which not the rich earth's ample round

May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me Than all the prouder summer-blooms may be.

2

Gold such as thine ne'er drew the Spanish prow Through the primeval hush of Indian seas,

Of age,

Nor wrinkled the lean brow

to rob the lover's heart of ease;

"T is the spring's largess, which she scatters now To rich and poor alike, with lavish hand, Though most hearts never understand

To take it at God's value, but pass by
The offered wealth with unrewarded eye.

3

Thou art my tropics and mine Italy;

To look at thee unlocks a warmer clime;

The eyes thou givest me

Are in the heart, and heed not space or time:
Not in mid June the golden-cuirassed bee
Feels a more summer-like warm ravishment

In the white lily's breezy tent,