The little white moth became a flower,
A daisy-cup dash’d with dew.
[p102]
“The wide earth blessed the changeling flower,
The heavens smil’d down above;
A boundless life was the daisy’s life,
Her mission, a lowly love.
“A little white moth, with broken wings,
Came home, when nights were drear,
To breathe her last on the daisy’s breast.
She had missed her rightful sphere.”