Full white the Bourbon lily blows,
And fairer haughty England's rose.
Nor shall unsung the symbol smile,
Green Ireland, of thy lovely isle.
In Scotland grows a warlike flower,
Too rough to bloom in lady's bower;
His crest. when high the soldier bears,
And spurs his courser on the spears.
O there it blossoms - there it blows
The thistle's grown aboon the rose.
Poem by Allan Cunningham (1784-1842)
I'll bet it's a beautiful morning in Scotland...I love your greenest of greens and your lavender and purples. Very 'Scottish" poetry...Mom used to love to recite poems. A lost art.
ReplyDeleteAn epistle to a thistle-
ReplyDeleteJust a quickie so my sis'll
get a smile, I'm hoping this'll
do the trick. So give a little whistle
if you like this silly missile
for a flower and it's pistil
thriving in the Scottish mist.'ill
excellent poetry auntie..more than I could have ever hoped for..love the poems...is the Scottish thistle like a Texas thistle..spiky and rough?
ReplyDelete