Nor am I floggèd by the hailstone hard, Nor yet my burgeon-gems a-budding new Are burnt by rigours of a wintry spring: Neither the winds nor rains nor yet the droughts Caused just complaining to the apple-tree; Nor me the starling or the robber 'Daw Or crow as crone old-grown or watery goose Or thirsty raven e'er endamagèd.