THE

THE DAISY.

HE daisy is the meekest flower
That grows in wood or field;

To wind and rain, and footsteps rude,
Its slender stem will yield.

In spring it dots the green with white,
And blossoms all the year,

And so it is a favorite flower,
With all the children dear.

Before the stars are in the sky,
The daisy goes to rest,
And folds its little shining leaves
Upon its golden breast.

So children when they go to bed
Should fold their hands in prayer,

And place themselves and all they love,
In God's protecting care.

- Selected.

WAKE UP, LITTLE DAISY.

WAK

AKE up, little Daisy, the summer is nigh,
The dear little robin is up in the sky;

The snow-drop and crocus are never so slow,
Then, wake up, little Daisy, and hasten to grow.
Wake up, wake up, wake up, little Daisy,
And hasten to grow.

I tease pleasant sunshine to rest on your head,
The dew and the rain-drops to moisten your bed,
And then every morning I just take a peep,

To see your little face, but you're still fast asleep.
Wake up, wake up, wake up, little Daisy,

And hasten to grow.

Mother often tells me, if I would be wise,
And honored, and happy, I early must rise;
So I'm up in the morning, and out in the dew,
With all the little birds, and the honey-bees too.
Wake up, wake up, wake up, little Daisy,

And hasten to grow.

Listen, little Daisy, I'll tell you what's said,

The lark thinks you're lazy, and love your warm bed,
But I'll not believe it, for now I can see

Your bright little eyes softly winking at me.
Wake up, wake up, wake up, little Daisy,
And hasten to grow.

- Selected.

THE

THE DAISY.

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

It smiles upon the lap of May,

To sultry August spreads its charm,
Lights pale October on his way,
And twines December's arm.

'Tis Flora's page, in every place,
In every season, fresh and fair;
It opens with perennial grace,
And blossoms everywhere.

On waste and woodland, rock and plain,
Its humble buds unheeded rise;

The Rose has but a summer reign:

The Daisy never dies.

-James Montgomery

HE

DANDELION.

E is a roguish little elf,
A gay audacious fellow,

Who tramps about in doublet green
And skirt of brightest yellow;
In ev'ry field, by ev'ry road,

He peeps among the grasses,
And shows his sunny little face
To ev'ry one that passes.

Within the churchyard he is seen,
Beside the headstones peeping,
And shining like a golden star

O'er some still form there sleeping;
Beside the house door oft he springs
In all his wanton straying,

And children shout in laughing glee
To find him in their playing.

At eve he dons his nightgown green,
And goes to bed right early,

At morn, he spreads his yellow skirts
To catch the dewdrops pearly;
A darling elf is Dandelion,

A roguish wanton sweeting;
Yet he is loved by ev'ry child,
All give him joyous greeting.

- Kate L. Brown.

DANDELION.

"HERE'S a dandy little fellow,
Who dresses all in yellow,

In yellow with an overcoat of green;
With his hair all crisp and curly,
In the springtime bright and early
A-tripping o'er the meadow he is seen.
Through all the bright June weather,
Like a jolly little tramp,

He wanders o'er the hillside, down the road;
Around his yellow feather,

The gypsy fireflies camp;

His companions are the wood lark and the toad

But at last this little fellow

Doffs his dainty coat of yellow,

And very feebly totters o'er the green;

For he very old is growing

And with hair all white and flowing,
A-nodding in the sunlight he is seen.
Oh, poor dandy, once so spandy,
Golden dancer on the lea!

Older growing, white hair flowing,
Poor little baldhead dandy now is he!

- Nellie M. Garabrant.