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-
Night's possibility!