HERE Hare the opening verses of Burns's To a Mountain-Daisy (full title: On turning one down, with the Plough, in April -1786).

As with its companion piece, To a Mouse, written the previous autumn, Burns combines the finest sensibility about destroying natural things with reflections and moralisings about human life - his own particularly.

TO A MOUNTAIN-DAISY

Wee, modest, crimson-tipped 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 bonie gem.

Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,

The bonie Lark, companion meet!

Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet!

Wi's spreckl'd breast,

When upward-springing, blythe, to greet

The purpling East.

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.

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, alone.

histie=dry, stony