DAISY. 41 



When, smitten by the morning ray, 

 I see thee rise alert and gay, 

 Then, cheerful flower ! my spirits play 

 With kindred gladness ; 



And when, at dusk, hy dews opprest 

 Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest 

 Hath often eased my pensive breast 

 Of careful sadness. 



And all day long I number yet, 

 All seasons through, another debt, 

 Which I, wherever thou art met, 



To thee am owing ; 

 An instinct call it, a blind sense, 

 A happy genial influence, 

 Coming one knows not how, nor whence, 



Nor whither going. 



Child of the year ! that round dost run 

 Thy course, bold lover of the sun, 

 And cheerful when the day's begun 



As morning leveret, — 

 Thy long-lost praise thou shalt regain, 

 Dear shalt thou be to future men 

 As in old time ; — thou, not in vain, 



Art Nature's favourite. 



Wordsworth. 



This flowering weed of temperate climes cannot 

 be made to flourish between the tropics, although 

 it propagates itself on every patch of turf both in 

 these islands, and on the northern parts of the con- 

 tinent — but, if we are correctly informed, % it fails 

 to spangle the fields of the south-east of Europe, 

 where the arts were anciently so happily nurtured ; 

 and hence it happens that we have no Greek name 

 for this plant, which the Latins named Bellis, as 



