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 In warmer bower we'll plant the flower, An' skreen it round wi' myrtle.'

Sae Fate up drew the flower, an' flew Where Mersey's stream rows flowing; There, skreen'd frae harm, they plant it warm, For there Love's beams were glowing! Fair, fair it spread, au' gratefu' shed Its healing balms sweet smelling; An' as they flew. Affliction knew Blest health was near his dwelling.

Oh! had ye been whare I hae seen This rose mang myrtles blooming, Ye wad hae sworn nae canker-worm Was fast its roots consuming. But well-a-day! looks will betray! An' death Love's joy, will sever!— Fre midnight hour death nipt the flower!— Its sweets are gone for ever!

Ye wha can smile at Life's fause guile While health's warm sun shines beamy, Learn, that the flower o' Mersey's bower Was Lucy's peerless Jamie: An' ye wha mourn at Currie's urn, Or weep by Mersey's river,