I PARTAKE YOUR SENTIMENTS. 139 
From thy moist cheek, and bosom’s chilly fold. 
To kiss the tears of eve, the dew-drops cold ! 
Sweet daisy, flower of love ! when birds are paired, 
’Tis sweet to see thee, with thy bosom bared. 
Smiling, in virgin innocence, serene, 
Thy pearly crown above thy vest of green. 
The lark, with sparkling eye, and rustling wing, 
Rejoins his widowed mate in early spring, 
And as she prunes his plumes of russet hue, 
Swears, on thy maiden blossom, to be true. 
Oft have I watched thy closing buds at eve, 
Which for the parting sunbeams seemed to grie ve, 
And, when gay morning gilt the dew-bright plain, 
Seen them unclasp their folded leaves again; 
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. 
We might almost suppose that Wordsworth 
had been aware of the daisy’s power of lan¬ 
guage, when he introduced it in his descrip¬ 
tion of a deserted flower garden; where it 
seems to accord in sentiment with the various 
plants that once in beauty shone, but now, 
neglected, droop and hang “ their languid 
heads: ” 
Daisy-flowers and thrift 
Had broken their trim lines, and straggled o’er 
The paths they used to deck. 
And did not our countryman, James Mont¬ 
gomery, illustrious in the annals of poetry, 
