Golden Daisie

By Lucy Larcom

Disk of bronze and ray of gold
Glimmering through the meadow grasses,
Burn less proudly! for behold,
Down the field my princess passes.
Hardly should I hold you fair —
Golden, gay, midsummer daisies,
But for her, the maiden rare.
Who, amid your starry mazes.
Makes you splendid with her praises.

Soft brown tresses, eyes of blue,
Is a heart beneath you waking?
Maiden here’s a heart for you,
Fain were worthier of your taking.
Golden daisies, you have met
In a fairy ring around her —
Does she hear my footfall yet.
Wher, enchanted, you have bound her?
Hold her charmed, till we have crowned her!

Softly, blossoms, while she stands
In the sunny stillness dreaming, —
Softly hither, to my hands —
Wreathe for her a circlet gleaming!
Lights her face a shy, swift smile;
Flower-like head she slowly raises:
Was her heart mine all the while?
Blossoms, royal with her praises,
Crown my queen, ye golden daisies!

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