PATTIE.

COOL comely country Pattie, grown

A daisy where the daisies grow,

No wind of heaven has ever blown

Across a field-flower's daintier snow.

Gold-white among the meadow-grass

The humble little daisies thrive;

I cannot see them as I pass,

But I am glad to be alive.

And so I turn where Pattie stands,

A flower among the flowers at play;

I'll lay my heart into her hands,

And she will smile the clouds away.