NOW listen! In the country， close by the highroad， stood a farmhouse; perhaps you havepassed by and seen it yourself. There was a littleflower garden with painted wooden palings in front ofit; close by was a ditch， on its fresh GREen bankgrew a little daisy; the sun shone as warmly andbrightly upon it as on the magnificent gardenflowers， and therefore it thrived well. One morning ithad quite opened， and its little snow-white petals stood round the yellow centre， like the raysof the sun. It did not mind that nobody saw it in the grass， and that it was a poor despisedflower; on the contrary， it was quite happy， and turned towards the sun， looking upwardand listening to the song of the lark high up in the air.
the little daisy was as happy as if the day had been a GREat holiday， but it was onlyMonday. All the children were at school， and while they were sitting on the forms and learningtheir lessons， it sat on its thin green stalk and learnt from the sun and from its surroundingshow kind God is， and it rejoiced that the song of the little lark expressed so sweetly anddistinctly its own feelings. With a sort of reverence the daisy looked up to the bird that couldfly and sing， but it did not feel envious. “I can see and hear，” it thought; “the sun shinesupon me， and the forest kisses me. How rich I am!”
In the garden close by GREw many large and magnificent flowers， and， strange to say，the less fragrance they had the haughtier and prouder they were. The peonies puffedthemselves up in order to be larger than the roses， but size is not everything! The tulips hadthe finest colours， and they knew it well， too， for they were standing bolt upright likecandles， that one might see them the better. In their pride they did not see the little daisy，which looked over to them and thought， “How rich and beautiful they are! I am sure thepretty bird will fly down and call upon them. Thank God， that I stand so near and can at leastsee all the splendour.” And while the daisy was still thinking， the lark came flying down，crying “Tweet，” but not to the peonies and tulips—no， into the grass to the poor daisy. Itsjoy was so great that it did not know what to think. The little bird hopped round it and sang， “How beautifully soft the grass is， and what a lovely little flower with its golden heart and silverdress is growing here.” The yellow centre in the daisy did indeed look like gold， while the littlepetals shone as brightly as silver.
How happy the daisy was! No one has the least idea. The bird kissed it with its beak，sang to it， and then rose again up to the blue sky. It was certainly more than a quarter of anhour before the daisy recovered its senses. Half ashamed， yet glad at heart， it looked over tothe other flowers in the garden; surely they had witnessed its pleasure and the honour thathad been done to it; they understood its joy. But the tulips stood more stiffly than ever，their faces were pointed and red， because they were vexed. The peonies were sulky; it waswell that they could not speak， otherwise they would have given the daisy a good lecture. Thelittle flower could very well see that they were ill at ease， and pitied them sincerely.
Shortly after this a girl came into the garden， with a large sharp knife. She went to thetulips and began cutting them off， one after another. “Ugh!” sighed the daisy， “that isterrible; now they are done for.”
the girl carried the tulips away. The daisy was glad that it was outside， and only a smallflower—it felt very grateful. At sunset it folded its petals， and fell asleep， and dreamt allnight of the sun and the little bird.
On the following morning， when the flower once more stretched forth its tender petals，like little arms， towards the air and light， the daisy recognised the bird's voice， but what itsang sounded so sad. Indeed the poor bird had good reason to be sad， for it had been caughtand put into a cage close by the open window. It sang of the happy days when it could merrilyfly about， of fresh GREen corn in the fields， and of the time when it could soar almost up tothe clouds. The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage. The little daisy wouldhave liked so much to help it， but what could be done? Indeed， that was very difficult forsuch a small flower to find out. It entirely forgot how beautiful everything around it was， howwarmly the sun was shining， and how splendidly white its own petals were. It could only thinkof the poor captive bird， for which it could do nothing. Then two little boys came out of thegarden; 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.