Daisy Poems

Table of Contents

1. Daisies Standing in the Rain

   by Annette Wynne

   
   

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   Daisies standing in the rain,
   Hold their heads together,
   But they never once complain
   Of the drenching weather.
   

   Daisies know the sun will dry
   All their dripping laces;
   They're far too wise to frown and sigh
   And spoil their dainty faces.
   

2. The daisy follows soft the sun

   by Emily Dickinson

   
   

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   The daisy follows soft the sun,
   And when his golden walk is done,
   Sits shyly at his feet.
   He, waking, finds the flower near.
   "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, —
   Enamoured of the parting west,
   The peace, the flight, the amethyst,
   Night's possibility!
   

3. There's Many a Lonesome Daisy

   by Annette Wynne

   There's many a lonesome daisy where never a child can be,
   And many a lone little brooklet is dancing away to the sea;
   Yet children must stay in the city with only dull walls in view,
   As if there were never a brooklet and never a daisy grew!
   

4. Buttercups and Daisies

   by Mary Howitt

   
   

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   Buttercups and daisies,
   Oh, the pretty flowers;
   Coming ere the spring time,
   To tell of sunny hours,
   While the trees are leafless,
   While the fields are bare,
   Buttercups and daisies
   Spring up here and there.
   

   Ere the snow-drop peepeth,
   Ere the crocus bold,
   Ere the early primrose
   Opes its paly gold,—
   Somewhere on the sunny bank
   Buttercups are bright;
   Somewhere midst the frozen grass
   Peeps the daisy white.
   

   Little hardy flowers,
   Like to children poor,
   Playing in their sturdy health
   By their mother's door.
   Purple with the north-wind,
   Yet alert and bold;
   Fearing not, and caring not,
   Though they be a-cold!
   

   What to them is winter!
   What are stormy showers!
   Buttercups and daisies
   Are these human flowers!
   He who gave them hardships
   And a life of care,
   Gave them likewise hardy strength
   And patient hearts to bear.
   

5. To a Daisy

   by John Hartley

   
   

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   Ah! I'm feared thou's come too sooin,
   Little daisy!
   Pray whativer wor ta doin'?
   Are ta crazy?
   Winter winds are blowin' yet.
   Tha'l be starved, mi little pet!
   

   Did a gleam o'sunshine warm thee;
   An' deceive thee?
   Niver let appearance charm thee;
   Yes, believe me,
   Smiles tha'lt find are oft but snares
   Laid to catch thee unawares.
   

   An' yet, I think it looks a shame
   To talk sich stuff;
   I've lost heart, an' thou'lt do t' same,
   Ay, sooin enough!
   An' if thou'rt happy as tha art,
   Trustin' must be t' wisest part.
   

   Come! I'll pile some bits o' stoan
   Round thi dwellin';
   They may cheer the when I've goan,—
   Theer's no tellin';
   An' when Spring's mild day draws near
   I'll release thee, never fear!
   

   An' then if thi pretty face
   Greets me smilin',
   I may come an' sit by th' place,
   Time beguilin',
   Glad to think I'd paar to be
   Of some use if but to thee!
   

6. Ode to the Daisy

   by Peter Burn

   
   

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   Lovely, unassuming thing,
   Unto thee I praises sing;
   Regal greatness do I see
   In thy sweet humility.
   

   When the chilling breezes blow,
   Laying prouder beauties low,
   Then I find thee peacefully
   Blooming in adversity.
   

   When within the fertile bed
   Others boldly lift the head,
   Lovely daisy, thee I see,
   Humble in prosperity.
   

7. The White Daisy

   by Richard Coe

   
   

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   There is a little, dainty flower,
   That lifts its golden eye,
   Without a single tinge of shame,
   Unshrinking to the sky;
   But yet, so sweetly free from art,
   It captivates the thoughtful heart!
   

   It glads the merry month of May,
   On August smiles a cheer;
   It greets the pale October day,
   "The saddest of the year"—
   And still an open bosom shows
   Amid the cold December snow.
   

   It roams upon the mountain-top,
   To catch the morning sun;
   It plays about the meadows, where
   The merry brooklets run;
   Upon the forest solitudes
   The pretty daisy's form intrudes.
   

   And oft-times on the infant's grave,
   This little flower is found;
   Nor aught more fitting thus to bloom
   On consecrated ground;
   'Tis beautiful without pretence—
   An emblem sweet of Innocence!
   

8. Daisies

   by Frank Dempster Sherman

   
   

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   At evening when I go to bed
   I see the stars shine overhead;
   They are the little daisies white
   That dot the meadow of the Night.
   

   And often while I'm dreaming so,
   Across the sky the Moon will go;
   It is a lady, sweet and fair,
   Who comes to gather daisies there.
   

   For, when at morning I arise,
   There's not a star left in the skies;
   She's picked them all and dropped them down
   Into the meadows of the town.
   

9. The Daisy

   by T. F. Seward

   
   

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   In the early Springtime, when the violets grow,
   When the birds sing sweetly, and the soft winds blow,
   Comes the little daisy, blooming fresh and fair,
   Springing bright and joyous in the morning air.
   

   Sunny little blossom, on your slender stalk,
   How much you would teach us if you could but talk!
   Ever looking upward, all the livelong day,
   Bright your faces turn to catch each sunbeam's ray.
   

10. Daisies

    by Hilda Conkling

    Snow-white shawls . . .
    Golden faces . . .
    Countryside, hillside, wayside people . . .
    Little market-women
    Selling dew and yellow flour
    To make bread
    For some city of elves. . . .
    

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