ORIGINAL POET RY.
THE DAISY. O, weel I love the daisy WP it's slender glossy stem, When the dew drop's in it's bosom, And glittering like a gem. The daisy is mair honoured Than the stately blooming rose, Or the gorgeous purple dahlia That in ihe garden grows. Burns lo'ed the modest daisy That in his way did grow, And plaintively he mourned it As the plough did o'er it go. It*met< him in an evil hour, And it was overthrown, And sadly did the poet sing That fate woufd be his own. The lark sleeps wi' the daisy ; When flowers hae gane to rest He aye takes in his bosom The flower that he lo'es best. And when he soars to meet the morn With rapturous melody, The modest daisy lifts her head To cheer his minstrelsy. Old Chaucer lo'ed the daisy, And gave it magic power ; Both dame and knight at tournament Acknowledged it's power. The fairies in their revels, In robes of sylvan green, Dance merrily by the moonlight Around the daisy queen. It's sweet to see the daisy At breaking o' the day, When it wakens from it's slumber In the merry month of May. It's sweet to see the daisy Wi' the dew drop in it's e'e, When the sylvan groves are ringing With nature's melody. Ckaigielee.
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Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 185, 24 August 1871, Page 7
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222ORIGINAL POETRY. Tuapeka Times, Volume III, Issue 185, 24 August 1871, Page 7
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