Wordsworth.    

	Thou unassuming commonplace
	Of nature.

Wordsworth.    

	That well by reason men it call may
	The daisie, or els the eye of the day,
	The emprise, and floure of no floures all.

Chaucer.    

	Small service is true service while it lasts:
	Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one:
	The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,
	Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.

Wordsworth.    

	Myriads of daisies have shown forth in flower
	Near the lark’s nest, and in their natural hour
	Have passed away; less happy than the one
	That, by the unwilling ploughshare, died to prove
	The tender charm of poetry and love.

Wordsworth.    

	Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow’r,
	Thou’s met me in an evil hour;
	For I maun crush amang the stoure
	Thy slender stem:
	To spare thee now is past my pow’r,
	Thou bonnie gem.

Burns.    

	Of all the floures in the mede,
	Than love I most these floures white and rede,
	Soch that men callen daisies in our toun.

Chaucer.