Jurgis Baltrušaitis (May 2, 1873 – January 3, 1944 / Lithuania)
Little daisy, white as snow,
To delight me as I tread,
From the roadside dust you grow,
Lifting up your pretty head.
Under sorrow's weight I groaned;
Your sweet flower healed my sore.
In the world I'm not alone,
Not an orphan any more.
Poverty seems to be gone,
Gone the pain, and life seems worth
Living – not like exile on
This dark, melancholy earth.
With sunshine you filled my heart,
And I walk along, made bold
By the song bereft of art
You left singing in my soul.
Comments about this poem (Little Daisy by Jurgis Baltrušaitis )
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