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The Daisies

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HE scented bud of the morning—O,    When the windy grass went rippling far,  I saw my dear one walking slow,    In the field where the daisies are.    We did not laugh and we did not speak            As we wandered happily to and fro;  I kissed my dear on either cheek,    In the bud of the morning—O.    A lark sang up from the breezy land,    A lark sang down from a cloud afar,          And she and I went hand in hand    In the field where the daisies are.

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James Stephens

James Stephens (9 February 1880[1] – 26 December 1950) was an Irish novelist and poet.

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