« 
112 daisy. 
Gay, gentle creatures ! Round that odorous 
bower 
They weave their dance of joy the livelong 
day, 
Seeming to bless the sunshine ; and at night 
Fold their enamelled wings, as if to pray. 
Home-loving pretty ones ! would that I might 
For richer gifts as cheerful tribute pay, 
So meet the rising dawn, so hail the parting 
ray. 
