To the Same Flower

With little here to do or see
Of things that in the great world be,
Daisy! again I talk to thee,
...For thou art worthy,
Thou unassuming Common-place
Of Nature, with that homely face,
And yet with something of a grace
...Which love makes for thee! . .
. .I see thee glittering from afar--
And thou art a pretty star;
Not quite so fair as many are
...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!

Bright 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,
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
My heart with gladness, and a share
...Of thy meek nature!

William Wordsworth (1770-1850)