Poems (Curwen)/I'd rather be a Daisy

by Annie Isabel Curwen

I'd rather be a Daisy.

I'd rather be a daisy in the field—
 A daisy in the field of poesy—
If but a passing pleasure I may yield
 Unto the weary-hearted passer-by.

I envy not the one that wears the bays,
 A "shining light" I would not care to be;
I'd rather sing my modest little lays,
 Inspired by nothing more than sympathy.

I count it purest joy if, haply, I
 May cheer one soul by grief or care cast down;
I'd rather dry the tear in sorrow's eye,
 Than scale the highest summit of renown.

I love the poets, love the silvery chimes
 Of their sweet measures, musical and grand;
But I would rather pen the simple rhymes
 That lowly hearts may read and understand.

It may be, when I reach the Land of Light—
 If God permits my soul to enter there—
And these poor eyes behold the wondrous sight
 Of living fountains, many mansions fair,

The great white Throne, and the angelic throng;
 And there being no sad songs for me to sing,
I, too, shall break forth into grander song
 When I behold the face of Christ, my King.