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