54 
The Poetry of Flowers. 
TO A DAISY. 
BY WORDSWORTH 
Bright flower, whose home is everywhere, 
A pilgrim bold in Nature's care, 
And oft, the long year through, the heir 
Of joy or sorrow ; 
Methinks that there abides in thee 
Some concord with humanity, 
Given to no other flower I see 
The forest thorough ! 
And wherefore ? Man is soon deprest; 
A thoughtless thing who, once unblest, 
Does little on his memory rest, 
Or on his reason : 
But thou would’st teach him how to find 
A shelter under every wind ; 
A hope for times that are unkind, 
And every season. 
THE IVY SONG. 
BY MRS. HEMANS. 
Oh ! how could fancy crown with thee 
In ancient days the god of wine, 
And bid thee at the banquet be 
Companion of the vine ! 
Ivy ! thy home is where each sound 
Of revelry hath long been o'er, 
Where song and beaker once went round, 
But now are known no more. 
Where long-fallen gods recline, 
There the place is thine. 
