A THOUGHTLESS DAISY.

IS very cold,' a Daisy said Upon a meadow green, 'Dark, gloomy clouds are overhead, Without a ray between. These angry gusts of bitter wind (So unexpected too) Are really more than I can bear— They chill me through and through.' Just then his discontented eye Looked sorrowfully up, And chanced across the path to spy A golden Buttercup. Its petals flinched before the wind, The stalk was roughly bent, And yet the Daisy could not hear One word of discontent. And then this foolish Daisy cried: 'It's plain enough to spy, Most blossoms in this meadow wide Are better off than I! They do not mind the shadows dark, Nor feel the bitter wind; If I could be a buttercup, I really shouldn't mind.' Now, like this Daisy in the grass Some people I have known, Who, while their daily troubles pass Do nothing else but moan, And think that those who bravely bear The chilling wind and rain Can feel no sorrow in their hearts Because they don't complain.