IN THE scented bud of the morning—O, <br />When the windy grass went rippling far, <br />I saw my dear one walking slow, <br />In the field where the daisies are. <br /> <br />We did not laugh and we did not speak <br />As we wandered happily to and fro; <br />I kissed my dear on either cheek, <br />In the bud of the morning—O. <br /> <br />A lark sang up from the breezy land, <br />A lark sang down from a cloud afar, <br />And she and I went hand in hand <br />In the field where the daisies are.<br /><br />James Stephens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-daisies-2/
