In the spring I asked the daisies <br /> If his words were true, <br />And the clever, clear-eyed daisies <br /> Always knew. <br /> <br />Now the fields are brown and barren, <br /> Bitter autumn blows, <br />And of all the stupid asters <br /> Not one knows.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wild-asters/
