TO THE DAISIES

O Daisies, with your golden hearts And petals white as snow, Ye are, indeed, fond Summer’s eyes O speak! for I would know The secrets of this month of June Of all months of the year, And not one June of all my life Was ever half so dear. The secrets of this month of June With your soft eyes declare: What is it makes the roses bloom, And beauty everywhere? Is it the longing in the seed That speaketh in the flower; And is this longing satisfied To breathe for one short hour, And vanish? Nay: the hidden power, In seed-life unto me Seems deathless, as the human-soul, Was, and will always be— And what though on the silent air, The perfume dies away Of the June roses, and they fade— Behold! shall any say, However wise, that this is loss: Alas! shall any deign Deny, that Nature’s wondrous laws May not restore again? The waves roll in upon the shore, Recede, and come again And thirsty clouds drink in the floods, To give them back, in rain. O Daisies, when bright June is past, And all your beauty fled; If in my memory ye but live, I dare not call ye dead, For ye have led me to the fount From whence all beauty springs, Your silence filled my soul with awe, And gave my spirit wings. The self-same tint in morning’s glow And in the crimson flush Of the June roses, I behold In timid maidens’ blush. O Daisies, listen unto me, My secret I impart— Love’s sweetest flowers are all ablow; ’Tis June-time in my heart! Go tell my secret to some bird, The bob-o-link were best— Tell him to ask his patient wife To sit upon the nest; And him unto my lover go, And, as my minstrel sent, Ask him to sing that song he sang When he a-wooing went. Thou think’st he might not find him? It might be well to say, My love, like light, will go before To ’luminate the way.