The starlight from one clear, bright star,
    The moonlight, faint and white
From the little moon, low in the sky,
Shone in my face on the hill, where I
    Have thought of you to-night.

There was just the last of the sunset left,
    Pale-yellow in the west,
And a sleepy bobolink flew by,
    And dropped into its nest;
And the field was full of daisies,
    That nodded, and waved, and bowed;
The wind was so little it could not play
    At once with all the crowd,
And the daisies bowed to the star and moon,
    And I called you once aloud.

The nearest daisies looked at me
    Because they heard me call;
And they told each other what I had said,
    Though they did not hear it all.
And I stood there wishing for you,
    All alone on the hill;
While far below were the fields asleep,
    And above, the sky so still.

In the twilight the daisies were busy,
    And they nodded and looked around
At each other, and bowed to begin a dance;
    But their feet never moved from the ground.
Oh, the little wind blew, and I watched them
    Till I felt like a daisy, too;
And more kept blooming, it seemed to me;
    And they knew I thought of you.

The star went higher, and the moon grew bright,
    And the sunset was almost lost,
And the trees below looked black as the night,
    But the daisies were white like frost;
And the mountains so far, and so blue by day,
    Looked dark against the west,
So grave and still in their solemn gloom,
    And the world was all at rest.
But the daisies nodded and looked at me,
    And still they bowed and played;
Like children in church, they were merry still,
    And why should they be afraid?

I looked up at the hills and down at the fields
    All dim with shadows, dear;
Then looked at the sky, and I hid my face,
    For its light grew strangely clear.
The flowers were so white that they dazzled me,
    And the wind blew against my face;
And the stars seemed nearer than lights below,
    While I stood in that lonely place.