Daisy Time

Snow in spring, why not? Last week, it felt more like Christmas than Easter. Even though I love to watch the snow, I am ready for the sun and colour of spring, with its blossoming trees and the first flowers. So, if the weather wouldn’t give me that, I was going to find it in a poem. Canadian poet Marjorie Pickethall has been forgotten because she remained a traditional poet writing romantic lyrics during the modernist era. But guess what? I like romantic lyrics. So this is me, trying to remember her.

See, the grass is full of stars,
Fallen in their brightness;
Hearts they have of shining gold,
Rays of shining whiteness.

Buttercups have honeyed hearts,
Bees they love the clover,
But I love the daisies’ dance
All the meadow over.

Blow, O blow, you happy winds,
Singing summer’s praises,
Up the field and down the field
A-dancing with the daisies.

Marjorie Pickthall


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