=Daisy.=

The daisy’s cheek is tipp’d with a blush,
She is of such low degree.
463
HOOD:  Flowers.

=Damnation.=

And deal damnation round the land. 464 POPE:  The Universal Prayer, St. 7.

=Damsel.=

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw.
465
COLERIDGE:  Kubla Khan.

=Dancing.=

Alike all ages:  dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze:  And the gay grandsire, skill’d in gestic lore, Has frisk’d beneath the burden of threescore. 466 GOLDSMITH:  Traveller, Line 251.

Her feet beneath her petticoat,
Like little mice, stole in and out,
  As if they feared the light;
But, oh! she dances such a way! 
No sun upon an Easter-day
  Is half so fine a sight.
467
SUCKLING:  On a Wedding.

Come and trip it as you go
On the light fantastic toe.
468
MILTON:  L’Allegro, Line 33.

On with the dance! let joy be unconfined!  No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet, To chase the glowing hours with flying feet. 469 BYRON:  Ch.  Harold, Canto iii., St. 22.

You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet,
  Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
470
BYRON:  Don Juan, Canto iii., St. 86. 10.

=Danger.=

He that stands upon a slippery place,
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.
471
SHAKS.:  King John, Act iii., Sc. 4.

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. 472 SHAKS.:  1 Henry IV., Act ii., Sc. 3.

Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray.
473
WORDSWORTH:  Character of the Happy Warrior.

=Dante.=

Oh their Dante of the dread Inferno,
Wrote one song—­and in my brain I sing it.
474
ROBERT BROWNING:  One Word More, xvii.

=Daring.=

I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.
475
SHAKS.:  Macbeth, Act i., Sc. 7

The bravest are the tenderest,—­
The loving are the daring.
476
BAYARD TAYLOR:  The Song of the Camp.

=Darkness.=

Lo! darkness bends down like a mother of grief
On the limitless plain, and the fall of her hair
It has mantled a world.
477
JOAQUIN MILLER:  From Sea to Sea, St. 4.

Thy hand, great Anarch, lets the curtain fall, And universal darkness buries all. 478 POPE:  Dunciad, Bk. iv., Line 649.

=Dart.=

Th’ adorning thee with so much art
  Is but a barb’rous skill;
’Tis like the pois’ning of a dart,
  Too apt before to kill.
479
ABRAHAM COWLEY:  The Waiting Maid.

=Daughter.=

Still harping on my daughter.
480
SHAKS.:  Hamlet, Act ii., Sc. 2.