42 jSauJS* 
I cannOt gaze on aught that wears 
The beauty of the skies, 
Or aught that in life’s valley bears 
The hues of paradise; 
I cannot look upon a star, 
Or cloud that seems a seraph’s car, 
Or any form of purity— 
Unmingled with a dream of thee. 
P. Benjamin. 
The Daisy scattered on each meade and downe, 
A golden tdft within, a silver crown; 
Faire fell that dainty flower! and may there be 
No shepherd graced that doth not honour thee. 
Browne. 
There is a flower, a little flower 
With silver crest and golden eye, 
That welcomes every changing hour, 
And weathers every sky. 
Montgomery. 
Heaven may awhile correct the virtuous, 
Yet it will wipe their eyes again, and make 
Their faces whiter with their tears. Innocence 
Concealed is the stolen pleasure of the gods, 
Which never ends in shame, as that of men 
Doth oftentimes do; but like the sun breaks forth, 
When it hath gratified another world; 
And to our unexpecting eyes appears 
More glorious through its late obscurity. 
John Fountain. 
