36 
POETRY OF FLOWERS. 
v> 
THE DAISY. 
ii. 
In youth, from rock to rock I went, 
From hill to hill in discontent 
Of pleasure high and turbulent, 
Most pleased when most uneasy ; 
Eut now my own delights I make,—• 
My thirst at every rill can slake, 
And gladly Nature’s love partake 
Of thee, sweet Daisy! 
When soothed a while hy milder airs, 
Thee Winter in the garland wears 
That thinly shades his few grey hairs; 
Spring cannot shun thee; 
Whole Summer fields are thine by right; 
And Autumn, melancholy wight, 
Doth in thy crimson head delight 
When rains are on thee. 
Be violets in their secret mews, 
The flowers the wanton zephyrs choose ; 
Proud he the rose, with rains and dews 
Her head impearling; 
Thou livest with less ambitious aim, 
Yet hast not gone without thy fame; 
Thou art indeed hy many a claim 
The poet’s darling. 
