DAISY. 
109 
Thrice welcome, little English flower! 
I’ll rear thee with a trembling hand; 
Oh, for the April sun and shower, 
The sweet May-dews of that fair land. 
Where daisies, thick as star-light stand 
In every walk !—that here may shoot 
Thy scions, and thy buds expand, 
A hundred from one root. 
Thrice welcome, little English flower ! 
To me the pledge of hope unseen; 
When sorrow would my soul o’erpower 
For joys that were, or might have been, 
I’ll call to mind, how, fresh and green, 
I saw thee waking from the dust; 
Then turn to heaven with brow serene. 
And place in God my trust. 
TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY, 
ON TURNING ONE DOWN WITH THE PLOUGH. 
BURNS. 
Small, modest, crimson-tipped flower, 
Thou’st met me in an evil hour, 
For I must crush among the stoure 
Thy slender stem : 
To spare thee now is past my pow’r, 
Thou bonny gem ! 
