66 
ARBOR DA V MANUAL. 
DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. 
P OOR little daffy-down-dilly ! 
She slept with her head on a rose, 
When a sly moth-miller kissed her, 
And left some dust on her nose. 
Poor little daffy-down-dilly! 
She woke when the clock struck ten, 
And hurried away to the fairy queen’s ball, 
Down in the shadowy gien. 
Poor little daffy-down-dilly ! 
Right dainty was she, and fair, 
In her bodice of yellow satin, 
And petticoat green and rare. 
But to look in her dew-drop mirror, 
She quite forgot when she rose, 
And into the queen’s high presence 
Tripped with a spot on her nose. 
Then the little knight who loved her— 
O, he wished that he were dead ; 
And the queen’s maid began to titter, 
And tossed her saucy head. 
And up from her throne so stately. 
The wee queen rose in her power, 
Just waved her light wand o’er her, 
And she changed into a flower. 
Poor little daffy-down-dilly! 
Now in silver spring time hours, 
She wakes in the sunny meadows, 
And lives with other flowers. 
Her beautiful yellow bodice, 
With green skirts wears she still; 
And the children seek and love her, 
But they call her daffodil. 
“ To him who in the love of nature holds 
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 
A various language.” 
Bryant’s Thanatofist ' s . 
