And ever in my heart to heaven's clear sunshine true!
There was a meadow where, in days of old,
I lov'd to gather wild and simple flowers
The snow-white daisies and the cups of gold
Were then to me the richest of all dowers;
There did I pass full many a summer's day.
Recall the days of childhood's easy grace,
When daisies fine were found in all the place
Where willing feet so loved in sport to stray,
And spend the hours that fill a Summer's day:
Recall the happy quest from field to field
For such fair flowers that Nature's sure to yield,
And see the daisies chief and best of all
The dearest flowers the child his own can call;
And tell again the perfect joy we had
To take them home and show companions glad,-
Our friends, whose talk made music of the tale,
Of how the gifts were won from hill and dale:
That was the witching hour of bliss supreme,
The rosy-colored dawn of life's young dream!
Now see the youth apace in pastures new,
Where daisies' white-eyed thoughts are wet with dew
And see his busy fingers ply their skill
To cull these chosen gems of vale and hill;
No nook of earth, no hedgerow green and fair,
But sees his simple wildlings nestling there;
Swift pass the hours in pleasures pure and long,
To purple with their haze his tell-tale song :
Returning now with trophies such as these,
He seeks with simple things your love to please,
And trusts your kindly eye will deem them gay,
As he presents his poor but best display;
They bloomed for him in regions rich and wild,
Their history hear and glad the poet-child!