Daisy

“So build the hillocks gaily,
Thou little spade of mine
Leaving nooks for Daisy
And for Columbine
You and I the secret
Of the Crocus know
Let us chant it softly –
There is no more snow!” --Emily Dickinson

It doesn’t seem possible, but I imagined it was the first time I had seen the sweet explosion of spring. The garden glowed with flowers: hollyhocks sprung up tall as trees, lilies opened, tulips and roses were in bloom; the borders of the little beds were gay with pink thrift and crimson double daisies. --Jane Eyre