A head of gold one great weed tossed,
And leaned to look when I went by;
And where the brook the roadway crossed
The daisy kept on me its eye.
And when I stooped to bathe my face,
And seat me at a great tree’s foot,
I heard the stream say, “Mark the place:
And undermine it rock and root.”
And o’er the whirling water there
A dragonfly its shuttle plied,