Down in a field, one day in June, <br />The flowers all bloomed together, <br />Save one who tried to hide herself, <br />And drooped, that pleasant weather. <br /> <br />A robin who had flown too high <br />And felt a little lazy <br />Was resting near this buttercup <br />Who wished she were a daisy. <br /> <br />The daisies grow so trig and tall,- <br />She always had a passion <br />For wearing frills around her neck <br />In just the daisies' fashion. <br /> <br />And buttercups must always be <br />The same old tiresome color- <br />While daisies dress in gold and white, <br />Although their gold is duller. <br /> <br />'Dear robin,' said this sad young flower, <br />'Perhaps you'd not mind trying <br />To find a nice white frill for me <br />Some day when you are flying.' <br /> <br />'You silly thing!' the robin said, <br />'I think you must be crazy. <br />I'd rather be my honest self <br />Than any made-up daisy. <br /> <br />'You're nicer in your own bright gown,- <br />The little children love you. <br />Be the best buttercup you can, <br />And think no flower above you. <br /> <br />'Though swallows leave me out of sight, <br />We'd better keep our places; <br />Perhaps the world would all go wrong <br />With one too many daisies. <br /> <br />'Look bravely up into the sky <br />And be content with knowing <br />That God wished for a buttercup <br />Just here, where you are growing.'<br /><br />Sarah Orne Jewett<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/discontent-8/