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to behold him, "kneeling alway, till it unclosed was;" and at sunset, when its leaves were again folded, we see him hastening home, that he may rise early and watch it again expand. A beautiful portrait of a gentle, happy, and truly poetic mind may be found in Chaucer's passages descriptive of his own habits and fancies; and yet, comparatively, his works are known to but a small portion of readers, and are but little appreciated, chiefly for want of the attention at first required to understand the varying accents and form the correct rhythm in reading them. His poems are so replete with beauties, and so thoroughly English in spirit, that they must, ere long, occupy that place among familiar favourites which they have so long in vain deserved.
Shakspeare very gracefully introduces the daisy in the description of Lucrece sleeping.
Without the bed her other fair hand was,
On the green coverlet; whose perfect white
Showed like an April daisy on the grass.
Her eyes, like marigolds, had sheathed their light,
And, canopied in darkness, sweetly lay,
Till they might open to adorn the day.
To our flower-loving Herrick I must be indebted for the last specimen of daisy eulogy which I shall quote here; it is a sweet melodious little fancy, and, as is usual in such compositions of his day, conveys a very elegant compliment to his mistress.
