Posted on April 26, 2021
by Hilda Conkling
Snow-white shawls . . .Golden faces . . .Countryside, hillside, wayside people . . .Little market-womenSelling dew and yellow flourTo make breadFor some city of elves. . . .
by Emily Dickinson
The daisy follows soft the sun,And when his golden walk is done,Sits shyly at his feet.He, waking, finds the flower near.“Wherefore, marauder, art thou here?”“Because, sir, love is sweet!”
Category: Nature and Wildlife Tagged: daisies, Emily dickinson, flora, flowers, hilda conkling, nature, photography, poem, wildlife
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