She lacked a daisy,
And for the want of a flower the chain was lost.
Thus she had nothing to pin in her auburn hair.
Drony, she walked the field alone.
She didn't want to go
To the ball, to the fair
With only repetitious, uninteresting
Things to say, and wear.
Alas, alack, and a lad undone,
A field of green clover danced in the wind,
And her, sentimentally woebegone.

-jenn