The Daisy follows soft the Sun —
And when his golden walk is done —
Sits shyly at his feet —
He — waking — finds the flower there —
Wherefore — Marauder — art thou here?
Because, Sir, love is sweet!
We are the Flower — Thou the Sun!
Forgive us, if as days decline —
We nearer steal to Thee!
Enamored of the parting West —
The peace — the flight — the Amethyst —