311. On the Birth of a Posthumous Child
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,
Chill, on thy lovely form:
And gane, alas! the shelt’ring tree,
Should shield thee frae the storm.
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!
Poem by
Robert Burns
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Robert Burns
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on 311. On the Birth of a Posthumous Child
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem 311. On the Birth of a Posthumous Child here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.