A gentle breeze floats through the air

Across the lazy, drifting clouds.

It rustles sleepy leaves of trees

And sways the pliant grass.

–

Below the softly dreaming gust

A terrible torrent roars.

Water crashes down the cliffs

Into the stony depths.

–

Atop the rippled lake it rests,

Floating along in grace.

Dipping, silent, always sweet:

A perfect, little daisy.