BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.
I never see a young hand hold
The starry bunch of white and gold,
But something warm and fresh will start
About the region of my heart.
My smile expires into a sigh;
I feel a struggling in the eye,
Twixt humid drop and sparkling ray,
Till rolling tears have won their way;
For soul and brain will travel back
Through Memory's chequer'd mazes,
To days when I but trod Life's track
For "Buttercups and Daisies."
The starry bunch of white and gold,
But something warm and fresh will start
About the region of my heart.
My smile expires into a sigh;
I feel a struggling in the eye,
Twixt humid drop and sparkling ray,
Till rolling tears have won their way;
For soul and brain will travel back
Through Memory's chequer'd mazes,
To days when I but trod Life's track
For "Buttercups and Daisies."
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