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The daisy we held of all flowers the sweetest. 
Our daisy-chains weaving, in child-days gone by, 
When girl, boy, together, in Youth’s golden weather, 
We trod the bright meadows beneath the bright sky. 
The daisy we leaned o’er, fair maid and true lover, 
Young heart’s thrilling shyly at love’s tender call, 
To whisper one love-question over and over— 
“Well, passionately, not at all?’*— 
The dear little daisy, the sweet little daisy, 
The daisy that blossoms for all! 
The daisy that paled by the dear old farm-threshold 
That day we marched o’er it, to win or to die! 
While sister and mother, and one dearest other, 
Stood sobbing and praying, and calling “Good-Bye.” 
The daisy we w T ore on our hearts thro’ the thunder 
Of cannon and musket and whistle of ball— 
The daisy that clings where our heroes sleep under 
The Banner they raised by their fall! 
The dear old home-daisy, the tender white daisy, 
The daisy that blossoms for all! 
The daisy that follows where’er our feet wander, 
From North-shore to South-shore, from East to the West 
The daisy—white blossom brides wear on pure bosom— 
The bud mothers lay on their wee ones to rest, 
The daisy, that flower is half and half-human, 
A mute, white evangel, earth-sent to recall 
Each sin-sullied man and each erring, sad woman 
To God, who so loveth us all! 
The true little daisy, the pure little daisy, 
The daisy that blossoms for all! 
******** 
A noble Republic, hope, home of all peoples, 
Young, mighty, and brave as a lion at bay— 
America! nation whose holy libation 
Was hero-blood, martyr-blood!—lifting, to-day, 
