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TO THE DAISY.
In youth from rock to rock I went,
Most pleas'd when most uneasy;
Of thee, sweet Daisy !
When soothed a while by milder airs,
Spring cannot shun thee;
When rains are on thee.
In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thon greet'st the Traveller in the lane; If welcome once thou count'st it gain;
Thou art not daunted, Nor car'st if thon be set at naught; And oft alone in nooks remote We meet thee, like a pleasant thought,
When such are wanted.
Be Violets in their secret mews
Her head impearling;
The Poet's darling.
If to a rock from rains he fly,
Near the green holly,
A hundred times, by rock or bower,
Or stray invention.
If stately passions in me burn,
A lowlier pleasure ;
Of hearts at leisure.
When, smitten by the morning ray,
With kindred motion :
Of true devotion.
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.