Wild Asters
In the spring I asked the daisies If his words were true, And the clever, clear-eyed daisies Always knew.
Now the fields are brown and barren1, Bitter autumn blows, And of all the stupid asters Not one knows.
Wild Asters
In the spring I asked the daisies If his words were true, And the clever, clear-eyed daisies Always knew.
Now the fields are brown and barren1, Bitter autumn blows, And of all the stupid asters Not one knows.