Flora's Lexicon/Apple Blossom
PPLE BLOSSOM. Pyrus. Class 12, Pentagynia. Order: Icosandria. What is more enchanting to the lover of nature than the apple-tree when clad with its beautiful bloom in the early spring? and the more, that they hold forth the promise of an abundance of delicious fruit. The apple bloom is indeed a charming flower, and by some is preferred before the rose.
PREFERENCE.
The lasses aw wonder’d what Willy could see,
In yen that was dark and hard-featur’d like me;
And they wonder’d ay mair when they talk’d o’ my wit,
And slily telt Willy, that could’nt be it:
But Willy he laugh’d, and he made me his wife,
And whea was mair happy thro’ aw his lang life!
Its e’en my great comfort, now Willy is geane,
That he often said, nea pleace was like his awn heame.
In yen that was dark and hard-featur’d like me;
And they wonder’d ay mair when they talk’d o’ my wit,
And slily telt Willy, that could’nt be it:
But Willy he laugh’d, and he made me his wife,
And whea was mair happy thro’ aw his lang life!
Its e’en my great comfort, now Willy is geane,
That he often said, nea pleace was like his awn heame.
I mind when I carried my wark to yon stile,
Where Willy was dyking, the time to beguile,
He would fling me a daisy to put i’ my breast,
And I hammer’d my noddle to make out a jest:
But merry or grave, Willy often would tell,
There was nin o’ the lave that was like my awn sel;
And he spake what he thought, for I’d hardly a plack
When we married, and nobbet ae gown to my back.
Where Willy was dyking, the time to beguile,
He would fling me a daisy to put i’ my breast,
And I hammer’d my noddle to make out a jest:
But merry or grave, Willy often would tell,
There was nin o’ the lave that was like my awn sel;
And he spake what he thought, for I’d hardly a plack
When we married, and nobbet ae gown to my back.
When the clock had struck eight, I expected him heame,
And wheyles went to meet him as far as Dumleane;
Of aw hours it telt, eight was dearest to me,
But now when it strikes, there’s a tear i’ my e’e.
O Willy! dear Willy! it never can be,
That age, time, or death, can divide thee and me;
For that spot on the earth, that’s aye dearest to me,
Is the turf that has cover'd my Willy frae me.
And wheyles went to meet him as far as Dumleane;
Of aw hours it telt, eight was dearest to me,
But now when it strikes, there’s a tear i’ my e’e.
O Willy! dear Willy! it never can be,
That age, time, or death, can divide thee and me;
For that spot on the earth, that’s aye dearest to me,
Is the turf that has cover'd my Willy frae me.
Gilpin