as if the lark uttered all this in its song, beautifully and distinctly, while the flower felt it in silence. And the flower looked up with a sort of reverence to the happy bird that could sing and fly, but it was not dejected at being itself unable to do the same.
“Do I not see and hear?” thought the Daisy; “the sun shines on me, and the breeze kisses me,—oh, what rich gifts do I enjoy!”
Within the palisading of the garden stood many stiff stately flowers: the less fragrance they had, the higher they held their heads. The peonies puffed themselves out, in order to make themselves larger than the roses; but it is not always the size that will avail any thing. The tulips were of the most beautiful colors; they knew that very well, and held themselves as straight as an arrow, so that they might be seen all the better. They did not deign to cast a look on the little Daisy-flower outside; but the flower looked at them so much the more, and thought, “How rich and beautiful those
