"Easy, the stream flows off the ben
A down the dyke-run, tae the glen.
The fallen grass is solemn, bare:
Alang the head-rig strolls the hare -
Unnoticed, thru the misty morn
Past the oak an' hardy thorn;
At the water, she sniffs the air -
She knows the scent and lingers there.
Returning foliage, comes in sight
Like children bathed in crystal light.
The snowdrops stand, firm an' brave
While Summer lays in Autumn's grave.
Are milk-white petals Winter's dress?
Is innocence a shield tae press?
What wind, what snaw, what wildest gale
Does blast your limpid cheeks sae pale?
Wee snowdrop - ye gentle flow'r
In a' great Nature's glory bower,
Ye stand apart, when nought else charms:
Like babes ripped from their mother's arms,
Ye fold and fall at Winter's close
Withstanding a' that Winter throws:
Spring's harbinger, wi' dewy tear
Ye mind me o' our children dear"
Patrick Scott Hogg