“Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark，” said one of the boys， and began to cut out asquare 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 pulledoff meant death to it; and it wished so much to live， as it was to go with the square of turfinto 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 itslost liberty， and beating its wings against the wires; and the little daisy could not speak orutter 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 giveme anything to drink. My throat is dry and burning. I feel as if I had fire and ice within me， andthe air is so oppressive. Alas! I must die， and part with the warm sunshine， the freshGREen meadows， and all the beauty that God has created.” And it thrust its beak into thepiece of grass， to refresh itself a little. Then it noticed the little daisy， and nodded to it， andkissed it with its beak and said： “You must also fade in here， poor little flower. You and thepiece of grass are all they have given me in exchange for the whole world， which I enjoyedoutside. Each little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me， each of your white petals afragrant 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 itsleaves， but the fragrance of its delicate petals streamed forth， and was much stronger thansuch flowers usually have： the bird noticed it， although it was dying with thirst， and in itspain 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; itopened 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 heartbroke for want and longing. The flower could not， as on the previous evening， fold up itspetals and sleep; it dropped sorrowfully. The boys only came the next morning; when theysaw the dead bird， they began to cry bitterly， dug a nice grave for it， and adorned it withflowers. The bird's body was placed in a pretty red box; they wished to bury it with royalhonours. 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， wasthrown out on the dusty highway. Nobody thought of the flower which had felt so much for thebird and had so GREatly desired to comfort it.