A Wild-Flower Garland.

The Daisy.


The Daisy blossoms on the rocks,1
Amid the purple heath ;2
It blossoms on the river’s banks,3
That thrids the glens beneath ;4
The eagle, at his pride of place,5
Beholds it by his nest ;6
And, in the mead it cushions soft7
The lark’s descending breast.8


Before the cuckoo, earliest spring9
Its silver circlet knows,10
When greening buds begin to swell,11
And zephyr melts the snows ;12
And, when December’s breezes howl13
Along the moorlands bare,14
And only blooms the Christmas rose,15
The Daisy still is there !16


Samaritan of flowers ! to it17
All races are alike,18
The Sqitzer on his glacier height,—19
The Dutchman by his dyke,—20
The seal-skin vested Esquimaux,21
Begirt with icy seas,—22
And, underneath his burning noon,23
The parasol’d Chinese.24


The emigrant on distant shore,25
Mid scenes and faces strange,26
Beholds it flowering in the sward,27
Where’er his footsteps range ;28
And when his yearning, home-sick heart29
Would bow to its despair,30
It reads his eye a lesson sage—31
That God is everywhere !32


Stars are the Daisies that begem33
The blue fields of the sky,34
Beheld by all, and everywhere,35
Bright prototypes on high :—36
Bloom on, then, unpretending flowers !37
And to the waverer be38
An emblem of St. Paul’s content,39
St. Steven’s constancy.40