We maun juist tak’ things as we find them then,
And mak’ a kirk or mill o’ them as we can,
—And yet I feel this muckle thistle’s staun’in’
Atween me and the mune as pairt o’ a Plan.
It isna there—nor me—by accident.
We’re brocht thegither for a certain reason,
Ev’n gin it’s naething mair than juist to gi’e
My jaded soul a necessary frisson.
I never saw afore a thistle quite
Sae intimately, or at sic an ’oor.