Re Thistles

A botanical effort with a distinct Caledonian flavour has been submitted by "Cerberus." Several members of the editorial staff have endeavoured to fathom the meanderings of this modern Burns, and in despair have passed the manuscript on to a shining light of the science faculty. His explanation is the personification of simplicity and we give both verse and comment:—

I think of all weeds
Purple thistles are the keenest,
Rending tattered garments on the prickliest of prickles,
See how the gallant nettle hangs his crested head in shame,
For the prickly purple patches of doughty Scottish fame;
And the bed of dandelions, faintest gold and softest down
Drop their tawny heads in anguish at the stabbing sanguine gown
Of the farmer's bold usurpers.

But in the moonlit meads,
While the dock leaves look their greenest,
And the dew-hung gossamer kisses with the tickliest of tickles,
The thistles brandish bayonets and jaty the dock leaves lush;
Nor fleer their pungent daggers with the sorrel in the slush;
I hey slander with the wanton wind, and scatter on his breeze
Downy bristles on the cowboys, pollen to provoke their sneeze,
From the farmer's bold usurpers.

—Cerberus.