All the flowers are beautiful… But the daisy is a bit more beautiful…
All the flowers are beautiful… But the daisy is a bit more beautiful…
In youth from rock to rock I went,
From hill to hill in discontent
Of pleasure high and turbulent,
Most pleased when most uneasy;
But now my own delights I make, -
My thirst at every rill can slake,
And gladly Nature's love partake
Of Thee, sweet Daisy!
William Wordsworth