The Daisy Chain, or Aspirations
And full of hope, day followed day,
While that stout ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight.
The May had then made all things green,
And floating there, in pomp serene,
That ship was goodly to be seen,
His pride and his delight.
Yet then when called ashore, he sought
The tender peace of rural thought,
In more than happy mood.
To your abodes, bright daisy flowers,
He then would steal at leisure hours,
And loved you, glittering in your bowers,
A starry multitude.
Harry's last home morning was brightened by going to the school to see full
justice done to Norman, and enjoying the scene for him. It was indeed a
painful ordeal to Norman himself, who could, at the moment, scarcely feel
pleasure in his restoration, excepting for the sake of his father, Harry, and his
sisters. To find the head-master making apologies to him was positively
painful and embarrassing, and his countenance would have been fitter for a
culprit receiving a lecture. It was pleasanter when the two other masters
shook hands with him, Mr. Harrison with a free confession that he had done
him injustice, and Mr. Wilmot with a glad look of congratulation, that
convinced Harry he had never believed Norman to blame.
Harry himself was somewhat of a hero; the masters all spoke to him, bade
him good speed, and wished him a happy voyage, and all the boys were
eager to admire his uniform, and wish themselves already men and officers
like Mr. May. He had his long-desired three cheers for "May senior!" shouted
with a thorough goodwill by the united lungs of the Whichcote foundation,
and a supplementary cheer arose for the good ship Alcestis, while hands were
held out on every side; and the boy arrived at such a pitch of benevolence
and good humour, as actually to volunteer a friendly shake of the hand to
Edward Anderson, whom he encountered skulking apart.
"Never mind, Ned, we have often licked each other before now, and don't let
us bear a grudge now I am going away. We are Stoneborough fellows both,
you know, after all."