| Author |
Quotes |
| David Macbeth Moir | Stars are the daisies that begem The blue fields of the sky, Beheld by all, and everywhere, Bright prototypes on high. |
| Elizabeth Barrett Browning | And a breastplate made of daisies, Closely fitting, leaf on leaf, Periwinkles interlaced Drawn for belt about the waist; While the brown bees, humming praises, Shot their arrows round the chief. |
| Henry Wadsworth Longfellow | Spake full well, in language quaint and olden, One who dwelleth by the castled Rhine, When he call'd the flowers, so blue and golden, Stars that on earth's firmament do shine. |
| James Montgomery | The Rose has but a Summer reign, The daisy never dies. |
| James Montgomery | There is a flower, a little flower With silver crest and golden eye, That welcomes every changing hour, And weathers every sky. |
| John Mason Good | Not worlds on worlds, in phalanx deep, Need we to prove a God is here; The daisy, fresh from nature's sleep, Tells of His hand in lines as clear. |
| Robert Burns | The daisy's for simplicity and unaffected air. |
| Robert Burns | Even thou who mournst the daisy's fate, That fate is thine--no distant date; Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, Full on thy bloom, Till crushed beneath the furrow's weight Shall be thy doom! |
| Thomas Chatterton | Yun daisyd mantels ys the mountayne dyghte. |
| Thomas Hood | And daisy-stars, whose firmament is green. |
| Thomas Hood | Stoop where thou wilt, thy careless hand Some random bud will meet; Thou canst not tread, but thou wilt find The daisy at thy feet. |
| William Bliss Carman | Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune I saw the white daisies go down to the sea, A host in the sunshine, an army in June, The people God sends us to set our heart free. |
| William Wordsworth | Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere Bold in maternal nature's care And all the long year through the heir Of joy and sorrow, Methinks that there abides in thee Some concord with humanity, Given to no other flower I see The forest through. |
| William Wordsworth | The poet's darling. |
| William Wordsworth | We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted. |
| William Wordsworth | Thou unassuming Commonplace Of Nature. |
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