Classic Poem

Wee, genty, timid, bashfu' wean,
Tott, totting through the street thy lane,
Like sunny keeks through cluds o' rain
Thy face sae fair,
Peeps sweetly through thy clusterin' train
O' raven hair.

Thy wee bit neck and bosom bare,
Though tussled by the cauld raw air,
Are pearly pure, and lily fair,
As snaw flakes fa'in;
An' thy wee cheeks glow like a pair
O' roses blawin'.

Thy form is licht as fairy fay,
Thy face is sweet as flowery May,
Thine ee, like dawn o' infant day,
Waukin the east,
And chasing gloomy dool away
Frae every breast.

Tho' sma' thy mak, an' scrimp thy cleedin',
Tho' bleak thy hame, an' puir thy feedin',
Tho' scant thy lair, an' laigh thy breedin',
The time may be
When thou'lt hae mony wooers pleadin'
For love frae thee.

Yet beauty's e'en a doubtfu' gift,
Wi' mickle shew, but little thrift;
Wi' it the rich may mak' a shift
To lead the fashion,
While humble Beauty's cast adrift
On human passion.

O man! why wilt thou seek thy bane,
An' gi'e thysel' an' ithers pain;
Fair Virtue's flower, wherefore stain,
An' leave to wither?
I trow the heart gets little gain
That breaks anither.

Alack! puir wean, thy fate I fear,
Thy morning sky's e'en cauld and drear;
Dark poortith hovers in the rear,
Wi' bodin' scowl,
An' how can sic as thou win clear
O' faes sae foul.

Auld beldame Fortune, would I kenned her!
I wadna wee thing let thee wander
Wi' thy sma' limbs sae slim and slender,
Thus niddered bare.
An' thy wee feet, sae jimp an' tender,
A' dinlin' sair.

Hail, Nature! thou whais genial power
Has gi'en her beauty for her dower,
O tend wi' care this tender flower
That sprung frae thee;
An' rear her safe in virtue's bower,
Aneath thine ee.