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And a breastplate made of daisies, Closely fitting, leaf on leaf, Periwinkles interlaced Drawn for belt about the waist; While the brown bees, humming praises, Shot their arrows round the chief.

The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air.

Even thou who mournst the daisy's fate, That fate is thine--no distant date; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight Shall be thy doom!

Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune I saw the white daisies go down to the sea, A host in the sunshine, an army in June, The people God sends us to set our heart free.

You may wear your virtues as a crown, As you walk through life serenely, And grace your simple rustic gown With a beauty more than queenly. Though only one for you shall care, One only speak your praises; And you never wear in your shining hair, A richer flower than daisies.

Yun daisyd mantels ys the mountayne dyghte.

That men by reason will it calle may The daisie or elles the eye of day The emperice, and floure of floures alle.

That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.

Daisies infinite Uplift in praise their little growing hands, O'er every hill that under heaven expands.

Not worlds on worlds, in phalanx deep, Need we to prove a God is here; The daisy, fresh from nature's sleep, Tells of His hand in lines as clear.

And daisy-stars, whose firmament is green.

Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet.

All summer she scattered the daisy leaves; They only mocked her as they fell. She said: "The daisy but deceives; 'He loves me not,' 'he loves me will,' One story no two daisies tell." Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves Under the daisy's mocking spell.

Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he call'd the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars that on earth's firmament do shine.

Stars are the daisies that begem The blue fields of the sky, Beheld by all, and everywhere, Bright prototypes on high.

The Rose has but a Summer reign, The daisy never dies.

There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky.

Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy and sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through.

The poet's darling.

We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.