Now blooms the lily by the bank, The primrose down the brae; The hawthorn's budding in the glen, The milkwhite is the slae.

The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, And violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.

Mourn, little harebells, o'er the lea; Ye stately foxgloves fair to see! Ye woodbines, hanging bonnilie In scented bowers! Ye roses on your thorny tree The first o' flow'rs.

At my age flowers scare me.

I have loved flowers that fade, Within those magic tents Rich hues have marriage made With sweet unmemoried scents.

Thick on the woodland floor Gay company shall be, Primrose and Hyacinth And frail Anemone, Perennial Strawberry-bloom, Woodsorrel's pencilled veil, Dishevel'd Willow-weed And Orchis purple and pale.