Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
W. Wordsworth
CCLIV. To the Daisy
WITH little here to do or see 
Of things that in the great world be, 
Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee, 
      For thou art worthy, 
Thou unassuming commonplace         5
Of Nature, with that homely face, 
And yet with something of a grace 
      Which Love makes for thee! 
Oft on the dappled turf at ease 
I sit and play with similes,  10
Loose types of things through all degrees, 
      Thoughts of thy raising; 
And many a fond and idle name 
I give to thee, for praise or blame, 
As is the humour of the game,  15
      While I am gazing. 
A nun demure, of lowly port; 
Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court, 
In thy simplicity the sport 
      Of all temptations;  20
A queen in crown of rubies drest; 
A starveling in a scanty vest; 
Are all, as seems to suit thee best, 
      Thy appellations. 
A little Cyclops, with one eye  25
Staring to threaten and defy, 
That thought comes next—and instantly 
      The freak is over, 
The shape will vanish, and behold! 
A silver shield with boss of gold  30
That spreads itself, some fairy bold 
      In fight to cover. 
I see thee glittering from afar— 
And then thou art a pretty star, 
Not quite so fair as many are  35
      In heaven above thee! 
Yet like a star, with glittering crest, 
Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest;— 
May peace come never to his nest 
      Who shall reprove thee!  40
Sweet Flower! for by that name at last 
When all my reveries are past 
I call thee, and to that cleave fast, 
      Sweet silent creature! 
That breath'st with me in sun and air,  45
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair 
My heart with gladness, and a share 
      Of thy meek nature! 

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