
FLORAL POESY. 

THE DAISIE. 
CHAUCER. 

DatsrE of light! very ground of comfort ! 
The sunnis doughtir ye hight, as I rede, 
For when he westrith, farwell your disport ; 
By your nature anone, right for pure drede 
Of the rude Night, that with his boistous wede 
Of derkenesse shadowith our hemisphere, 
Then closin ye, my liv’is ladie dere. 
Daunying the daie unto his kind resort, 
And Phoebus your fethir with his stremes rede 
Adorneth the morrowe, consuming the sort 
Of mistie cloudes, that wouldin oyirlede 
True humble hertis with ther mistie hede, 
Nere comfort adaies, when your eyin clere 
Disclose and sprede, my liv’is ladie dere. 
Je vouldray ; but the grete God disposeth 
And makith casuell by His providence 
Soche thing as mannis frele wit purposeth, 
All for the best, if that your conscience 
Not grutche it, but in humble pacience 
It receve ; for God saith withoutin fable, 
A faithful herte evir-is acceptable. 
From ‘A Godely Balado,” 

TO THE DAISY. 
WORDSWORTH. 
Bricut flower! whose home is everywhere, 
Bold in maternal Nature’s care, 
And all the long year through the heir 
Of joy or sorrow ; 




