And what the limits are that ha’e been put
To change in thistles, and why—and what a change ’ud boot....
I saw a rose come loupin’ oot[9]
Frae a camsteerie plant.
O wha’d ha’e thocht yon puir stock had
Sic an inhabitant?
For centuries it ran to waste,
Wi’ pin-heid flooers at times.
O’ts hidden hert o’ beauty they
Were but the merest skimes.