I lose all the brightness and beauty,
As I sit here sewing a seam.
"My thread grows tangled and dirty,
My needle is sure to stick fast,
And the girls are passing the window:
Please tell me that work-time has past."
Ah, Daisy, dear child, in the future,
As the shadows of life come and go,
You will find some duties as irksome
As the seam you are trying to sew.