AND FLOWERS OF POETRY. 
113 
Nor he who sung—“the daisy is so sweet” — 
More dearly loved thy pearly form to greet; 
When on his scarf the knight the daisy bound, 
And dames at tourneys shone, with daisies crowned, 
And fays forsook the purer fields above, 
To hail the daisy, flower of faithful love. 
Did not our countryman, James Montgomery, illustrious in 
the annals of poetry, partake warmly of the sentiments of that 
learned Baptist missionary, Dr. Carey, when he composed those 
beautiful lines, entitled “ The Daisy in India,” and which we 
here present to the reader, as they must awaken a kindred 
feeling in every heart where sensibility is not entirely ex¬ 
tinguished? Dr. Carey had expressed, in a letter to a botanical 
friend in England, the pleasure he felt on observing a daisy 
spring up, unexpectedly, in his garden at Serampore, where he 
was stationed on his important duty. It had been borne over 
the waters in some English earth in which other seeds were 
conveyed ; and now in another clime it opened its “ crimson- 
tipped flower” to the warm air of the East; we can conceive 
the welcome surprise with which the little flower was greeted ! 
Thrice welcome, little English flower! 
The mother-country’s white and red, 
In rose or lily, till this hour, 
Never to me such beauty spread; 
Transplanted from thine island-bed, 
A treasure in a grain of earth, 
Strange as a spirit from the dead, 
Thine embryo sprang to birth. 
I 
Thrice welcome, little English flower! 
Whose tribes beneath our natal skies 
Shut close their leaves while vapours lower; 
But when the sun’s gay beams arise, 
With unabashed but modest eyes 
Follow his motion to the west, 
Nor cease to gaze till daylight dies, 
Then fold themselves to rest. 
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