The Daisy Page #2

								

flower. You and the piece of grass are all they have given me in
exchange for the whole world, which I enjoyed outside. Each little
blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, each of your white petals
a fragrant flower. Alas! you only remind me of what I have lost."

"I wish I could console the poor lark," thought the daisy. It
could not move one of its leaves, but the fragrance of its delicate
petals streamed forth, and was much stronger than such flowers usually
have: the bird noticed it, although it was dying with thirst, and in
its pain tore up the green blades of grass, but did not touch the
flower.

The evening came, and nobody appeared to bring the poor bird a
drop of water; it opened its beautiful wings, and fluttered about in
its anguish; a faint and mournful "Tweet, tweet," was all it could
utter, then it bent its little head towards the flower, and its
heart broke for want and longing. The flower could not, as on the
previous evening, fold up its petals and sleep; it dropped
sorrowfully. The boys only came the next morning; when they saw the
dead bird, they began to cry bitterly, dug a nice grave for it, and
adorned it with flowers. The bird's body was placed in a pretty red
box; they wished to bury it with royal honours. While it was alive and
sang they forgot it, and let it suffer want in the cage; now, they
cried over it and covered it with flowers. The piece of turf, with the
little daisy in it, was thrown out on the dusty highway. Nobody
thought of the flower which had felt so much for the bird and had so
greatly desired to comfort it.
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