DAISY. 
79 
Sweet are the charms in thee we find,— 
Emblem of hope’s gay wing; 
’Tis thine to call past bloom to mind, 
To promise future spring. 
The same. — miss mitford. 
Within my little garden is a flower — 
A tuft of flowers, most like a sheaf of corn, 
The lilac-blossom’d daisy that is born 
At Michaelmas, wrought by the gentle power 
Of this sweet Autumn into one bright shower 
Of blooming beauty. Spring hath nought more fair — 
Four sister butterflies inhabit there: 
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 enamell’d 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. 
