In the country, close by the roadside, stood a pleasant house. In
front lay a little garden, enclosed by a fence, and full of blossoming
flowers. Near the hedge, in the soft green grass, grew a little daisy.
The sun shone as brightly and warmly upon her as it shone upon the
large and beautiful garden flowers.
The daisy grew from day to day. Every morning she unfolded her white
rays, and lifted up a little golden sun in the centre of her blossom.
She never remembered how little she was. She never thought that she was
hidden down in the grass, while the tall beautiful flowers grew in the
garden. She was too happy to care for such things. She lifted her face
towards the warm sun, she looked up to the blue sky, and she listened
to the lark singing high in the air.
[Illustration]
One day the little daisy was as joyful as if it were a great holiday,
and yet it was only Monday. The little children were at school. They
sat at their desks learning their lessons. The daisy, on her tiny stem,
was learning from the warm sun and the soft wind how good God is. Then
the lark sang his sweet song. “How beautiful, how sweet the song is!”
said the daisy. “What a happy bird to sing so sweetly and fly so high!”
But she never dreamed of being sorry because she could not fly or sing.
The tall garden flowers by the fence were very proud and conceited. The
peonies thought it very grand to be so large, and puffed themselves
out to be larger than the roses. “See how bright my colors are!” said
the tulips. And they stood bolt upright to be seen more plainly. They
did not notice the little daisy. She said to herself, “How rich and
beautiful they are! No wonder the pretty bird likes them. I am glad I
can live near them.”
Just then the lark flew down. “Tweet, tweet, tweet,” he cried, but he
did not go near the peonies and tulips. He hopped into the grass near
the lowly daisy. She trembled for joy. The little bird sang beside her:
“Oh, what sweet, soft grass, and what a beautiful little flower, with
gold in its heart and silver on its dress!” How happy the little daisy
felt! And the bird kissed it with his beak, sang to it, and then flew
up into the blue air above.
The daisy looked up at the peonies and the tulips, but they were quite
vexed, and turned their backs upon her. She did not care, she was so
happy. When the sun was set, she folded up her leaves and went to
sleep. All night long she dreamed of the warm sun and the pretty little
bird. The next morning, when she stretched out her white leaves to the
warm air and the light, she heard the voice of the lark, but his song
was sad. Poor little lark! He might well be sad: he had been made a
prisoner in a cage that hung by the open window. He sang of the happy
time when he could fly in the air, joyous and free.
Just then two boys came into the garden. They came straight to the
daisy. One of them carried a sharp knife in his hand. “We can cut a
nice piece of turf for the lark, here,” he said. And he cut a square
piece of turf around the daisy, so that the little flower stood in the
centre. He carried the piece of turf with the daisy growing in it, and
placed it in the lark’s cage.
“There is no water here,” said the captive lark. “All have gone, and
forgotten to give me a drop of water to drink. My throat is hot and
dry. I feel as if I were burning.” And he thrust his beak into the cool
turf to refresh himself a little with the green grass. Within it was
the daisy. He nodded to her, and kissed her with his beak.
“Poor little flower! Have you come here, too?”
“How I wish I could comfort him,” said the daisy. And she tried to fill
the air with perfume.
The poor bird lay faint and weak on the floor of the cage. His heart
was broken. In the morning the boys came, and when they found the bird
was dead, they wept many bitter tears. They dug a little grave for him,
and covered it with flowers. The piece of turf was thrown on the ground.
The daisy had given her little life to make the captive bird glad.
--HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.