THE DAISY故事　　Now listen!

In the country, close by the high road, stood　　a farmhouse; perhaps you have passed by and seen it yourself.

　　There was a little flower garden with painted wooden palings　　in front of it; close by was a ditch, on its fresh green bank　　grew a little daisy; the sun shone as warmly and brightly upon　　it as on the magnificent garden flowers, and therefore it　　thrived well.

One morning it had quite opened, and its little　　snow-white petals stood round the yellow centre, like the rays　　of the sun.

It did not mind that nobody saw it in the grass,　　and that it was a poor despised flower; on the contrary, it　　was quite happy, and turned towards the sun, looking upward　　and 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 only Monday.

All the children were　　at school, and while they were sitting on the forms and　　learning their lessons, it sat on its thin green stalk and　　learnt from the sun and from its surroundings how kind God is,　　and it rejoiced that the song of the little lark expressed so　　sweetly and distinctly its own feelings.

With a sort of　　reverence the daisy looked up to the bird that could fly and　　sing, but it did not feel envious.

"I can see and hear," it　　thought; "the sun shines upon 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 puffed themselves　　up in order to be larger than the roses, but size is not　　everything!

The tulips had the finest colours, and they knew　　it well, too, for they were standing bolt upright like　　candles, 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 the　　pretty bird will fly down and call upon them.

Thank God, that　　I stand so near and can at least see 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.

Its joy 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 silver dress is　　growing here.

" The yellow centre in the daisy did indeed look　　like gold, while the little petals 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 an　　hour before the daisy recovered its senses.

Half ashamed, yet　　glad at heart, it looked over to the other flowers in the　　garden; surely they had witnessed its pleasure and the honour　　that had 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　　was well that they could not speak, otherwise they would have　　given the daisy a good lecture.

The little 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 the tulips and began cutting　　them off, one after another.

"Ugh!

" sighed the daisy, "that is　　terrible; now they are done for.

"　　The girl carried the tulips away.

The daisy was glad that　　it was outside, and only a small flower- it felt very　　grateful.

At sunset it folded its petals, and fell asleep, and　　sp; dreamt all night 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 it sang sounded so sad.

Indeed the poor bird had good　　reason to be sad, for it had been caught and put into a cage　　close by the open window.

It sang of the happy days when it　　could merrily fly about, of fresh green corn in the fields,　　and of the time when it could soar almost up to the clouds.

　　The poor lark was most unhappy as a prisoner in a cage.

The　　little daisy would have liked so much to help it, but what　　could be done?

Indeed, that was very difficult for such a　　small flower to find out.

It entirely forgot how beautiful　　everything around it was, how warmly the sun was shining, and　　how splendidly white its own petals were.

It could only think　　of the poor captive bird, for which it could do nothing.

Then　　two little boys came out of the garden; 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.

　　"Here is a fine piece of turf for the lark," said one of　　the boys, and began to cut out a square 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 pulled off meant death to it; and　　it wished so much to live, as it was to go with the square of　　turf into 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 its lost liberty, and beating its　　wings against the wires; and the little daisy could not speak　　or utter 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 give me anything to drink.

My　　throat is dry and burning.

I feel as if I had fire and ice　　within me, and the air is so oppressive.

Alas!

I must die, and　　part with the warm sunshine, the fresh green meadows, and all　　the beauty that God has created.

" And it thrust its beak into　　the piece of grass, to refresh itself a little.

Then it　　noticed the little daisy, and nodded to it, and kissed it with　　its beak and said: "You must also fade in here, poor little　　flower.

You and the piece of grass are all they have given me　　in exchange for the whole world, which I enjoyed outside.

Each　　little blade of grass shall be a green tree for me, each of　　your white petals a fragrant 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 its leaves, but the fragrance of its　　delicate petals streamed forth, and was much stronger than　　such flowers usually have: the bird noticed it, although it　　was dying with thirst, and in its pain 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; it opened 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 heart broke for want and longing.

　　The flower could not, as on the previous evening, fold up its　　petals and sleep; it dropped sorrowfully.

The boys only came　　the next morning; when they saw the dead bird, they began to　　cry bitterly, dug a nice grave for it, and adorned it with　　flowers.

The bird's body was placed in a pretty red box; they　　wished to bury it with royal honours.

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, was thrown out on the dusty　　highway.

Nobody thought of the flower which had felt so much　　for the bird and had so greatly desired to comfort it.

　　THE END【英语童话故事THE DAISY故事查看网站：[db:时间]】