The stars were blurred, the hilltops canopied,
The valleys lost, the little bird was dead.
THE FIELD DAISY.
JENNY T. RUPRECHT.
Nomadic queen with softly petaled face,
Thine is a beauteous throne where'er thou art,
And thine a reign triumphant from the start;
And though thy throne were in half-desert place,
Or where thou may'st behold the brooklets race,