THE POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
117 
O 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 might shoot 
Thy scions and thy buds expand, 
A hundred from one root! 
While its association with recollections of childhood 
gratefully dwelt upon by Miss Twamley:— 
For one glance 
Of wondering love we lifted to the vault 
Of the o’er orbed sky, have we not bent 
Full many a gaze of pleased affection down 
To the green field, starred over with its hosts 
Of Daisies, countless as the blades of grass 
’Midst which they seemed to look and laugh at us ? 
****** 
—Daisies, with their rose-tipped silvery rays 
Spreading around the yellow boss within— 
And some most prized, that had not yet displayed 
Their fairy circle, but emerging new 
From their green hermitage, seemed as they blushed 
Beneath the ardent sun’s admiring gaze. 
But what says our old poet Chaucer ?— 
Of all the floures in the mede 
Than love I most these floures white and rede 
Soch that men callen Daisies in our town, 
To hem I have so great affection, 
As I sayd erst, whan comen is the Maie, 
That in my bedde there daweth me no daie T 
