And as I could this freshé flow’r I grette,
Kneeling always till it unclosed was
Upon the small, and soft, and sweeté gras.”
So we see Chaucer has been beforehand with Burns, not to say Wordsworth, in tender affection for the daisy.
The same transparent expression of delight in the open-air world comes in unexpectedly in some of the old ballads, which are concerned with far other matters. Thus:—
...
“When leaves be large and long
It’s pleasant walking in good greenwood
To hear the small birds’ song.
The woodweel sang and would not cease,