PATTIE.

COOL comely country Pattie, grown A daisy where the daisies grow, No wind of heaven has ever blown Across a field-flower's daintier snow.

Gold-white among the meadow-grass The humble little daisies thrive; I cannot see them as I pass, But I am glad to be alive.

And so I turn where Pattie stands, A flower among the flowers at play; I'll lay my heart into her hands, And she will smile the clouds away.