The Daisy

In the early Springtime, when the violets grow,
When the birds sing sweetly, and the soft winds blow,
Comes the little daisy, blooming fresh and fair,
Springing bright and joyous in the morning air.
Sunny little blossom, on your slender stalk,
How much you would teach us if you could but talk!
Ever looking upward, all the livelong day,
Bright your faces turn to catch each sunbeam’s ray.