And when daisies and buttercups gladdened my sight,
Like treasures of silver and gold.
I love you for lulling me back into dreams
Of the blue Highland mountains and echoing streams,
And of birchen glades breathing their balm,
While the deer was seen glancing in sunshine remote,
And the deep mellow crush of the wood-pigeon’s note,
Made music that sweetened the calm.
Not a pastoral song has a pleasanter tune
Than ye speak to my heart, little wildings of June: