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

"Look to the lilies how they grow!" 'Twas thus the Saviour said, that we, Even in the simplest flowers that blow, God's ever-watchful care might see.

The birds have ceased their songs, All save the blackbird, that from yon tall ash, 'Mid Pinkie's greenery, from his mellow throat, In adoration of the setting sun, Chants forth his evening hymn.

Thou unassuming Commonplace Of Nature.

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

The poet's darling.