“Upon the hill-top high they grow,
The path is there by which you go,
But if you get them you must climb,”
She said, unconscious of the rhyme.
I glanced along the rocky ledge;
The daisies nodded o’er the edge,
And just as far as I could see
They waved their ruffled caps to me.
Bright eyes that never had grown old
Their heart’s content to me foretold,