Page:Poems Bushnell.djvu/51

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
Margaret

She plucked one idly as she went;
And half for jest, and half intent,
All her simple lore she spent,
Trying what her fortune meant
On its snowy ring;
With the charm each maiden tries,
Ever with a new surprise,
Listening to those soft replies
That the daisies bring.

First, he loves me, whispered low;
Then, he loves me not, and so
Back and forth, and to and fro,
All around the milk-white row,
The fairy wheel of fate.
Wide the airy leaflets blew,
While her fingers swiftly flew,
Raveling out the slender clew
To her heart's estate.

Ending thus the little spell,
On he loves me not it fell:
But merry as a marriage-bell
Rang her voice: "Dear flower, pray tell,
Why so cruel art?"
Careless fancies lightly blow,
Spread their wings, and come and go,
When the door stands open so,
In the happy heart.

37