DAISIES. 



And then when the wind across it blows, 

 And the wavering lines of silver follow, 



We catch the gleam of her heart of gold, 



While over her skims the fleet-winged swallow. 



Clear and simple in white and gold, 

 Meadow blossom of sunlit spaces, 



The field is full as it well can hold 



And white with the drift of the ox-eye daisies ! 



50 



