Bends o’er the unfailing well:
Beneath the furrow lingers yet
The scarlet pimpernel.
Peeps not a snow-drop in the bower,
Where never froze the spring?
A daisy? oh! bring childhood’s flower —
The half-blown daisy bring!
Yes, lay the daisy’s little head
Beside the little cheek;
Oh, hush! the last of five is dead —