The wind-swayed daisies, that on every side <br />Throng the wide fields in whispering companies, <br />Serene and gently smiling like the eyes <br />Of tender children long beatified, <br />The delicate thought-wrapped buttercups that glide <br />Like sparks of fire above the wavering grass, <br />And swing and toss with all the airs that pass, <br />Yet seem so peaceful, so preoccupied; <br /> <br />These are the emblems of pure pleasures flown, <br />I scarce can think of pleasure without these. <br />Even to dream of them is to disown <br />The cold forlorn midwinter reveries, <br />Lulled with the perfume of old hopes new-blown, <br />No longer dreams, but dear realities.<br /><br />Archibald Lampman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/winter-thought/
