Joanna Baillie

Good-morrow to thy sable beak,
And glossy plumage, dark and sleek,
Thy crimson moon and azure eye,
read more

Good-morrow to thy sable beak,
And glossy plumage, dark and sleek,
Thy crimson moon and azure eye,
Cock of the heath, so wildly shy!

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note,
read more

Oh, swiftly glides the bonnie boat.
Just parted from the shore,
And to the fisher's chorus-note,
Soft moves the dipping oar!

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
But those who slide along the grassy sod,
read more

Think'st thou there are no serpents in the world
But those who slide along the grassy sod,
And sting the luckless foot that presses them?
There are who in the path of social life
Do bask their spotted skins in Fortune's sun,
And sting the soul.