I never see a young hand hold br The starry bunch of white and gold, br But something warm and fresh will start br About the region of my heart; - br My smile expires into a sigh; br I feel a struggling in my eye, br 'Twixt humid drop and sparkling ray, br Till rolling tears have won their way; br For, soul and brain will travel back, br Through memory's chequer'd mazes, br To days, when I but trod life's track br For buttercups and daisies. br br There seems a bright and fairy spell br About there very names to dwell; br And though old Time has mark'd my brow br With care and thought, I love them now. br Smile, if you will, but some heartstrings br Are closest link'd to simplest things; br And these wild flowers will hold mine fast, br Till love, and life, and all be past; br And then the only wish I have br Is, that the one who raises br The turf sod o'er me, plant my grave br With buttercups and daisies.