A Rose-bud by my Early Walk

Within the bush her covert nest

A little linnet fondly prest;

The dew sat chilly on her breast,

Sae early in the morning.

She soon shall see her tender brood,

The pride, the pleasure o’ the wood,

Amang the fresh green leaves bedew’d,

Awake the early morning.

So thou, dear bird, young Jeany fair,

On trembling string or vocal air,

Shall sweetly pay the tender care

That tents thy early morning.

So thou, sweet Rose-bud, young and gay,

Shalt beauteous blaze upon the day,

And bless the parent’s evening ray

That watch’d thy early morning.