Page:Poems Cook.djvu/57

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BUTTERCUPS AND DAISIES.
I never see a young hand hold
The starry bunch of white and gold,
But something warm and fresh will start
About the region of my heart.
My smile expires into a sigh;
I feel a struggling in the eye,
Twixt humid drop and sparkling ray,
Till rolling tears have won their way;
For soul and brain will travel back
Through Memory's chequer'd mazes,
To days when I but trod Life's track
For "Buttercups and Daisies."

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