78 THE FLORAL WORLD AND GARDEN GUIDE. 



I can tell you wliy — because the roots positively refuse to work in 

 a soil that has become soddened and sour round the sides of a large 

 pot. Give them^ therefore, small shifts, that they may have a fresh, 

 sweet soil to feed upou, and you may grow them to any size you 

 like, providing you do not overdo them with water w hen they don't 

 want it. Make a few mistakes in this matter, and you will be 

 rewarded for your pains by seeing the most healthy amongst your 

 plants dwindle away and die. For the benefit of your youn^ 

 readers, I will remark that the chief secret of success in cultivating 

 them is a rich, open, porous soil, and only just as much water as they 

 can appropriate without its hanging about in the soil any number of 

 hours afterwards. . _ 



THE DAISY. 



All hail! to the fairest star of the earth, 



Tlie daisy, beloved of old ; 

 So modest and lowly it comes to its birth, 



When winds whistle hollow and cold. 

 In its beauty it shines on the mountain side, 



When the furze and the heather blooms glow ; 

 And it glitters in sunshine, and grows in its pride, 



Where the water- brooks tumble and flow. 



It glows on the bedire bank, and in the green brake, 



And under the shade of the trees, 

 In the clefts o' the rock, where it gleams in the wake 



Of the fierce beating mountainous breeze. 

 In every m adow, and cranny, and nook. 



Where'er there's an inch of soil, 

 It preaches its homilies better than book, 



To the sons and the daughters of toil. 



Under Donningtons' oaks, in times of yore, 



Old Giiaucer in joy would recline, 

 To g:ize on the daisy, and drink in its store 



Of wisdom and beauty sublime. 

 For the heart of the poft was warmed into love, 



When he gazed on its starlighted form ; 

 And his soul was illumined with light from alxjve^ 



When he saw it at earliest dawn. 



So the bare? of the North — the hero of toil, 



By its bloom was enraptured and blessed, 

 Feeling proud that old Scotia's heather-clad soil 



Had a gem so endeared and caressed. 

 With the heart of a man, he could yet shed a tear. 



For the blossoms de<tr yed by his plough ; 

 For it taught him that tr<iuble, and sorrow, and fear, 



Mixst fall on each humble brow. 



Then I'll cherish the daisy, the daisy for me. 



With its wee little star made of snow ; 

 'Mid the mosses and gr; sses so gaily and free, 



Doth it merrily, bonnily grow. 

 'Tis the flower of home, and 'twill blossom again ; 



Whatever our fate may befall ; 

 Bringing promise of sunshine and joy in its train. 



And a blessing for each and for all. 



