Margaret, in happy hour, <br />Christen'd from that humble flower <br />Which we a daisy call! <br />May thy pretty name-sake be <br />In all things a type of thee, <br />And image thee in all. <br /> <br />Like it you show a modest face, <br />An unpretending native grace; — <br />The tulip, and the pink, <br />The china and the damask rose, <br />And every flaunting flower that blows, <br />In the comparing shrink. <br /> <br />Of lowly fields you think no scorn; <br />Yet gayest gardens would adorn, <br />And grace, wherever set. <br />Home-seated in your lonely bower, <br />Or wedded — a transplanted flower — <br />I bless you, Margaret!<br /><br />Charles Lamb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-margaret-w/
