In summer's soft and golden field

In summer’s soft and golden field,

A mother with her daughters trail,

Between bent blades that gently yield

Where flowers blossom, bright and frail.

The eldest runs to join the dance,

Chrysanthemums hold out their hands!

They take her in the joyous prance,

Their petals where her laughter lands.

The youngest sifts among the green

To gather flowers, firm and fair,

A braided crown is her delight:

She sits with Daisies in her hair.

Yet all this stops at rarity held,

And Cosmos gasp as she strides in;

For ne’er such beauty a meadow’s beheld,

Until the mother blossoms within.

At frolics end, with petals piled:

Baskets of beauty in retreat,

While field is left to reconcile

The grace received beneath their feet.