Decima

Silent daisies out of reach,
Maidens of the starry grass,
Gazing on me as I pass
With a look too wise for speech,
Teach me resignation,-teach
Patience to the barren clod,
As, above your happier sod,
Bending to the wind's caress,
You-unplucked, alas!-no less
Sweetly manifest the god.