106 
DAISY, 
Thee nor wind nor storm can tear 
From thy lonely mountain lair ; 
Nor the sleety, sweeping rain, 
Root thee from thy native plain. 
Winter’s cold, nor summer’s heat. 
Blights thee in thy snug retreat; 
Chilled by snow, or scorched by flame, 
Thou for ever art the same. 
Type of truth, and emblem fair 
Of virtue struggling through despair, 
Close may sorrows hem it round, 
Troubles bend it to the ground. 
Yet the soul within is calm, 
Dreads no anguish, fears no harm ; j 
Conscious that the hand which tries 
All its latent energies. 
Can, with more than equal pow’r. 
Bear it through temptation’s hour ; 
Still the conflict, soothe its sighs, 
And plant it ’neath congenial skies. 
The same. —wordswobth, 
Bright flower, whose home is every where ! 
A Pilgrim bold in Nature’s care, 
And oft, the long year through, the heir 
Of joy or sorrow, 
