A 



THE DAISY 



KNOW not why thy beauty should 

 Remind me of the cold, dark grave — 



Thou Flower, as fair as Moonlight, when 

 She kissed the mouth of a black Cave. 



All other Flowers can coax the Bees, 

 All other Flowers are sought but thee : 



Dost thou remind them all of Death, 

 Sweet Flower, as thou remindest me ? 



Thou seemest like a blessed ghost, 



So white, so cold, though crowned with gold ; 

 Among these glazed Buttercups, 



And purple Thistles, rough and bold. 



When I am dead, nor thought of more. 



Out of all human memory — 

 Grow you on my forsaken grave, 



And win for me a stranger's sigh. 



A day or two the lilies fade ; 



A month, ay less, no friends are seen : 

 Then, claimant to forgotten graves. 



Share my lost place with the wild green. 



WILLIAM H. DAVIES. 



A WIDOW'S WEEDS 



POOR old Widow in her weeds 

 Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds ; 

 Not too shallow, and not too deep. 

 And down came April — drip — drip — drip. 



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