A woman wanders through the fields
And idly makes a daisy-chain.
The world is gold; the afternoon
Is rich with beauty and with pain.
And she remembers how they came
Arm-in-arm last year and how
One evening, when the sky was hushed
They kissed beneath a cherry bough.
She walks the fields alone; the sky
Is violent now, and he is thrown
Beyond the reach of love and time
Forever. She will walk alone
Next year and next, and time will numb
The bitterness, and dim the pain.
She wanders through the sunlit fields
And slowly breaks the daisy-chain.
(Douglas Gibson)
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