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The Field Daisy

 I'm a pretty little thing,
Always coming with the spring; 
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground,
And my stalk is cover'd flat
With a white and yellow hat.
Little Mary, when you pass Lightly o'er the tender grass, Skip about, but do not tread On my bright but lowly head, For I always seem to say, "Surely winter's gone away.
"

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