54 WILD FLOWERS. 
“ Come, come! you are either too bashful or lazy! 
Lady Spring made this season an early entree; 
And she wondered what could have become of her 
Daisy; 
We ’ll'call you coquettish, if still you delay!" 
Then a still, small voice, in the heart of the flower, 
It was Instinct, whispered her, “ Do not go! 
You had better be quiet, and wait your hour; 
It is n’t too late even yet for snow! ” 
But the little field-blossom was foolish and vain, 
And she said to herself, “ What a belle I shall 
be!” 
So she sprang to the light, as she broke from her 
chain, 
And gayly she cried, “ I am free! I tun free! 1 
A shy little thing is the Daisy, you know; 
And she was half frightened to death, when she 
found 
Not a blossom had even begun to blow! 
How she wished herself back again under the 
ground! 
