THE DAISY [1]
little arms, towards the air and
light, the daisy recognised the bird's voice, but what it sang sounded
so sad. Indeed the poor bird had good reason to be sad, for it had
been caught and put into a cage close by the open window. It sang of
the happy days when it could merrily fly about, of fresh green corn in
the fields, and of the time when it could soar almost up to the
clouds. The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage. The
little daisy would have liked so much to help it, but what could be
done? Indeed, that was very difficult for such a small flower to
find out. It entirely forgot how beautiful everything around it was,
how warmly the sun was shining, and how splendidly white its own
petals were. It could only think of the poor captive bird, for which
it could do nothing. Then two little boys came out of the garden;
one of them had a large sharp knife, like that with which the girl had
cut the tulips. They came straight towards the little daisy, which
could not understand what they wanted.
"Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark," said one of the boys,
and began to cut out a square round the daisy, so that it remained
in the centre of the grass.
"Pluck the flower off" said the other boy, and the daisy
trembled for fear, for to be pulled off meant death to it; and it
wished so much to live, as it was to go with the square of turf into
the poor captive lark's cage.
"No let it stay," said the other boy, "it looks so pretty".
And so it stayed, and was brought into the lark's cage. The poor
bird was lamenting its lost liberty, and beating its wings against the
wires; and the little daisy could not speak or utter a consoling word,
much as it would have liked to do so. So the forenoon passed.
"I have no water," said the captive lark, "they have all gone out,
and forgotten to give me anything to drink. My throat is dry and
burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me, and the air is
so oppressive. Alas! I must die, and part with the warm sunshine,
the fresh green meadows, and all the beauty that God has created." And
it thrust its beak into the piece of grass, to refresh itself a
little. Then it noticed the little daisy, and nodded to it, and kissed
it with its beak and said: "You must also fade in here, poor little
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.
THE END
.
light, the daisy recognised the bird's voice, but what it sang sounded
so sad. Indeed the poor bird had good reason to be sad, for it had
been caught and put into a cage close by the open window. It sang of
the happy days when it could merrily fly about, of fresh green corn in
the fields, and of the time when it could soar almost up to the
clouds. The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage. The
little daisy would have liked so much to help it, but what could be
done? Indeed, that was very difficult for such a small flower to
find out. It entirely forgot how beautiful everything around it was,
how warmly the sun was shining, and how splendidly white its own
petals were. It could only think of the poor captive bird, for which
it could do nothing. Then two little boys came out of the garden;
one of them had a large sharp knife, like that with which the girl had
cut the tulips. They came straight towards the little daisy, which
could not understand what they wanted.
"Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark," said one of the boys,
and began to cut out a square round the daisy, so that it remained
in the centre of the grass.
"Pluck the flower off" said the other boy, and the daisy
trembled for fear, for to be pulled off meant death to it; and it
wished so much to live, as it was to go with the square of turf into
the poor captive lark's cage.
"No let it stay," said the other boy, "it looks so pretty".
And so it stayed, and was brought into the lark's cage. The poor
bird was lamenting its lost liberty, and beating its wings against the
wires; and the little daisy could not speak or utter a consoling word,
much as it would have liked to do so. So the forenoon passed.
"I have no water," said the captive lark, "they have all gone out,
and forgotten to give me anything to drink. My throat is dry and
burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me, and the air is
so oppressive. Alas! I must die, and part with the warm sunshine,
the fresh green meadows, and all the beauty that God has created." And
it thrust its beak into the piece of grass, to refresh itself a
little. Then it noticed the little daisy, and nodded to it, and kissed
it with its beak and said: "You must also fade in here, poor little
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.
THE END
.