THE WHITE DAISY. 
49 
The prouder beauties of the field 
In gay, but quick, succession shine; 
Race after race their honours yield; 
They flourish and decline. 
But this small flower, to Nature dear, 
While moon and stars their courses run, 
Wreathes the whole circle of the year, 
Companion of the sun. 
It smiles upon the lap of May; 
To sultry August spreads its charms; 
Lights pale October on his way; 
And twines December’s arms. 
The purple heath and golden broom, 
On moory mountains catch the gale; 
O’er lawns the lily sheds perfume; 
The violet in the vale. 
But this hold floweret climbs the hill, 
Hides in the forests, haunts the glen ; 
Plays on the margin of the rill: 
Peeps in the fox’s den. 
Within the garden’s cultured round, 
It shares the sweet carnation’s bed ; 
And blooms on consecrated ground, 
In honour of the dead. 
F 
