The poetical works of John Godfrey Saxe :: :: University of Virginia Library

It was in an Irish city,
In the pleasant month of May,
That I met the clever, pretty,
Lively, lovely Daisy Day.
Like myself, a transient ranger
From Columbia's troubled shore,
Could I deem her quite a stranger,
Though we never met before?

Love of country—so despotic
In our precious native land—
Finds us doubly patriotic,
Straying on a foreign strand;
Hence, perhaps, her friendly manner,
And my pulse's quicker play,
When, beneath St. Patrick's banner,
I accosted Daisy Day.

Bless me! how all eyes were centred
On her when the parlor door
Opened, and the lady entered
Like a queen upon the floor!
'T was as if, that summer even,
Some superlative perfume,
Wafted by the breath of heaven,
Suddenly had filled the room!

Happy favorite of Nature,
Hebe in her sunny face,
Juno in her queenly stature,
More than Juno in her grace,
Eyes befitting Beauty's goddess,
Mouth to steal your heart away,
Bust that strained her ample bodice,—
Such was charming Daisy Day.

Well, what then? Ah! Holy Mother
Pardon one pathetic sigh;
She 's the “partner” of another,
And—I own it—So am I!
But a poet owes to Beauty
More than common men can pay,
And I 've done my simple duty,
Singing thus of Daisy Day.