UNDER THE DAISES.
A Ballad, by H. Millard.
I’ve just been learning the lesson of life,
The sad, sad lesson of loving,
And all of its powers, of pleasure or pain,
Been slowly and sadly proving;
And all that’s left of the bright, bright dream,
With its thousand brilliant phases,
Is a handful of dust, in a coffin hid,
A coffin under the daisies.
The beautiful, beautiful daisies,
The snowy, snowy daisies.
And thus, forever, throughout the wide world
Is love a sorrow proving;
There are still many sorrowful things in life,
But the saddest of all is loving.
The life of some is worse than death,
For fate a high wall oft raises,
And far better with two hearts estranged,
Is a low grave starred with daisies.
The beautiful, beautiful daisies,
The snowy, snowy daisies.
And so ’tis better we lived as we did,
The summer of love together,
And that one of us tired, and laid down to rest,
Ere the coming of wintry weather.
For the saddest of love is love grown cold,
And ’tis one of its surest phases,
So I bless my lot, though with breaking heart,
For that grave enstarred with daisies.
The beautiful, beautiful daisies.
The snowy, snowy daisies.