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Helen of Troy, and Other Poems · Chapter 12VI
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I plucked a daisy in the fields, And there beneath the sun I let its silver petals fall One after one.
I said, "He loves me, loves me not," And oh, my heart beat fast, The flower was kind, it let me say "He loves me," last.
I kissed the little leafless stem, But oh, my poor heart knew The words the flower had said to me, They were not true.