POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
o l 
o t 
Ye peep reluctant from beneath the weeds, 
Lite Goodness blushing to make known her deeds. 
Wild flowers! 
I love right well 
To visit where ye dwell, 
On Scotia’s hills, or vales, or shady bowers! 
Your foreign sisters can small joy impart, 
but ye are rooted, grow, and blossom in my heart! 
I). Christie. 
THE DAISY. 
i. 
There is a flower, a little flower, 
With silver crest and golden eye, 
That welcomes every changing hour, 
And weathers every sky. 
The prouder beauties of the field 
In gay but quick succession shine, 
Eace after race their honours yield, 
They flourish and decline. 
But this smal. flower, to nature dear, 
While moons and stars their courses run, 
Wreathes the whole circle of the year, 
Companion of the sun. 
