sunday morning poem

the michaelmas daisy

last smile of the departing year,

thy sister sweets are flown;

thy pensive wreath is far more dear,

from blooming thus alone.

thy tender blush, thy simple frame,

unnoticed might have past;

but now thou contest with softer claim,

the loveliest and the last.

sweet are the charms in thee we find,

emblem of hope's gay wing;

'tis thine to call past bloom to mind,

to promise future spring.

by letitia elizabeth landon (1802-1838)