And a breastplate made of daisies,
Closely fitting, leaf on leaf,
Periwinkles interlaced
Drawn read more

And a breastplate made of daisies,
Closely fitting, leaf on leaf,
Periwinkles interlaced
Drawn for belt about the waist;
While the brown bees, humming praises,
Shot their arrows round the chief.

You may wear your virtues as a crown,
As you walk through life serenely,
And grace your read more

You may wear your virtues as a crown,
As you walk through life serenely,
And grace your simple rustic gown
With a beauty more than queenly.
Though only one for you shall care,
One only speak your praises;
And you never wear in your shining hair,
A richer flower than daisies.

Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere
Bold in maternal nature's care
And all the long year through read more

Bright flowers, whose home is everywhere
Bold in maternal nature's care
And all the long year through the heir
Of joy and sorrow,
Methinks that there abides in thee
Some concord with humanity,
Given to no other flower I see
The forest through.

The poet's darling.

The poet's darling.

And daisy-stars, whose firmament is green.

And daisy-stars, whose firmament is green.

There is a flower, a little flower
With silver crest and golden eye,
That welcomes every changing read more

There is a flower, a little flower
With silver crest and golden eye,
That welcomes every changing hour,
And weathers every sky.

All summer she scattered the daisy leaves;
They only mocked her as they fell.
She said: "The read more

All summer she scattered the daisy leaves;
They only mocked her as they fell.
She said: "The daisy but deceives;
'He loves me not,' 'he loves me will,'
One story no two daisies tell."
Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves
Under the daisy's mocking spell.

That men by reason will it calle may
The daisie or elles the eye of day
The read more

That men by reason will it calle may
The daisie or elles the eye of day
The emperice, and floure of floures alle.

Not worlds on worlds, in phalanx deep,
Need we to prove a God is here;
The daisy, read more

Not worlds on worlds, in phalanx deep,
Need we to prove a God is here;
The daisy, fresh from nature's sleep,
Tells of His hand in lines as clear.