Beautiful Daisies
In flower beds in three or four cities,
Hugging along white painted walls,
Lie stands of Shasta daisies,
Blooming summer and even fall.
Almost the size of saucers,
They bob and say a cheery “Hello.”
To grumps or chortling child alike,
And even some happy fellows.
Fresh, they are my favorite,
My mother’s perennial transplants,
I adore, yes adore, those Shasta daisies,
More heavenly than a monk’s plainchant.
Others may cherish red roses,
Still others may cry over the face of a pansy,
But I, I will always love my daisies,
In my heart they will live as the fanciest.
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