“All summer she scattered the daisy leaves; They only mocked her as they fell. She said: "The daisy but deceives; 'He loves me not,' 'he loves me will,' One story no two daisies tell." Ah foolish heart, which waits and grieves Under the daisy's mocking spell.” ~ The Sign of the Daisy, Helen Hunt Jackson
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You may wear your virtues as a crown,
As you walk through life serenely,
And grace your simple rustic gown
With a beauty more than queenly.
Though only one for you shall care,
One only speak your praises;
And you never wear in your shining hair,
A richer flower than daisies.
100 years and more, yet her words hold us still. we touch them as old friends found new. you offer these fragments. a small reveal. is this your tell, the daisy's secret spell? So here, the beginning of the thrall. my turn.
knowing that far the greater part
of all his joy in all his fame
surrenders to my whispered name
in secret places of his heart.js.
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