A Weedling Wild, On Lonely Lea, My Evening Rambles Chanc'D To See; And Much The Weedling Tempted Me To Crop Its Tender Flower: Expos'D To Wind And Heavy Rain, Its Head Bow'D Lowly On The Plain; And Silently It Seem'D In Pain Of Life'S Endanger'D Hour. "And Wilt Thou Bid My Bloom Decay, And Crop My Flower, And Me Betray? And Cast My Injur'D Sweets Away,"-- Its Silence Seemly Sigh'D-- "A Moment'S Idol Of Thy Mind? And Is A Stranger So Unkind, To Leave A Shameful Root Behind, Bereft Of All Its Pride?" And So It Seemly Did Complain; And Beating Fell The Heavy Rain; And Low It Droop'D Upon The Plain, To Fate Resign'D To Fall: My Heart Did Melt At Its Decline, And "Come," Said I, "Thou Gem Divine, My Fate Shall Stand The Storm With Thine;" So Took The Root And All.