The Daisies

In the 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 daises are
We did not laugh and we did not speak
As we wandered happ’ly 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
As she and I went hand in hand
In the field where the daisies are