Page:Poems Bushnell.djvu/50

XIX
MARGARET

I.

Through the fields with morning wet,
Gaily wandered Margaret,
Not a shadow darkening yet
Eyes new-filled with violet;
 Just a blithesome lass,
Light of heart and light of tread,
Following where the pathway led,
Spinning out its little thread
 In the meadow-grass.

As she lightly tripped along,
Humming to herself a song
From a heart unstung by wrong—
Gossamer fancies free to throng
 Through her cloudless breast—
Troops of daisies, left and right,
Answering back her fresh delight,
Closer swung their fringes white
 Around their rosy guest.

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