104 
DAISY. 
Some memory that had taken flight; 
Some chime of fancy, wrong or right, 
Or stray invention. 
If stately passions in me burn. 
And one chance look to thee should turn 
I drink out of an humbler urn 
A lowlier pleasure; 
The homely sympathy that heeds 
The common life our nature breeds 
A wisdom fitted to the needs 
Of hearts at leisure. 
When, smitten by the morning ray, 
I see thee rise alert and gay, 
Then, cheerful flower ! my spirits play 
With kindred gladness; 
And when, at dusk, by dews opprest 
Thou sink’st, the image of thy rest 
Hath often eased my pensive breast 
Of careful sadness. 
And all day long I number yet. 
All seasons through, another debt, 
Which I, wherever thou art met, 
To thee am owing ; 
An instinct call it, a blind sense, 
A happy genial influence, 
Coming one knows not how nor whence 
Nor whither going. 
