A Field of Yellow Daisies

A Field of Yellow Daisies
By John A. Wilson


Hand in hand, we walked along,
In a field of yellow daisies.
The cares of the world we did not feel,
In a field of yellow daisies.

I spoke of my undying love,
In a field of yellow daisies.
And asked her please to be my bride,
In a field of yellow daisies.

The church and all our families gathered
In a field of yellow daisies.
I took her there to be my wife
In a field of yellow daisies.

A cottage we built, warm and stout
In a field of yellow daisies.
We loved our lives together there
In a field of yellow daisies.

Then cold winds blew and tore apart
Our field of yellow daisies.
A fever took her and she fell ill
In a field of yellow daisies.

She died in the spring and I laid her to rest
In a field of yellow daisies
But her soul lives on in every breeze
Across a field of yellow daisies.

Death cannot end the love we had
In a field of yellow daisies.
For I remember her love each time I see
A field of yellow daisies.