White daisies on the meadow green
Present thy beauteous form to me:
Peaceful and joyful those are seen,
And peace and joy encompass thee.
I watch them, where they dance and shine,
And love them—for their charm is thine.

Red roses o'er the woodland brook
Remember me thy lovely face:
So blushing and so fresh its look,
So wild and shy its radiant grace!
I kiss them, in their coy retreat,
And think of lips more soft and sweet.

Gold arrows of the merry morn,
Shot swiftly over orient seas;
Gold tassels of the bending corn
That ripple in the August breeze,
Thy wildering smile, thy glorious hair,
And all thy power and state declare.

White, red, and gold—the awful crown
Of majesty, and beauty, too!
From what a height those eyes look down
On him who proudly dares to sue!
Yet, free from self as thou from sin
Is love that loves, nor asks to win.

Let me but love thee in the flower,
The waving grass, the dancing wave,
The fragrant pomp of garden bower,
The violet meek, the orchid brave,
Sweet dreams by night, sweet thoughts by day,—
And time shall tire ere love decay!

Let me but love thee in the glow,
When morning on the ocean shines,
Or in the mighty winds that blow,
Snow-laden, through the mountain pines,—
In all things fair, or grand, or dread,
And all shall die ere love be dead!