A Thoughtless Daisy, Upon a meadow green


IS very cold,' a Daisy said
Upon a meadow green,
'Dark, gloomy clouds are overhead,
Without a ray between.
These angry gusts of bitter wind
(So unexpected too)
Are really more than I can bear—
They chill me through and through.'

Just then his discontented eye
Looked sorrowfully up,
And chanced across the path to spy
A golden Buttercup.
Its petals flinched before the wind,
The stalk was roughly bent,
And yet the Daisy could not hear
One word of discontent.

And then this foolish Daisy cried:
'It's plain enough to spy,
Most blossoms in this meadow wide
Are better off than I!
They do not mind the shadows dark,
Nor feel the bitter wind;
If I could be a buttercup,
I really shouldn't mind.'

Now, like this Daisy in the grass
Some people I have known,
Who, while their daily troubles pass
Do nothing else but moan,
And think that those who bravely bear
The chilling wind and rain
Can feel no sorrow in their hearts
Because they don't complain.