A daisy, smiling at the sun, 
beside a brooklet grew,
I plucked its petals ev'ry one, 
to tell if thou wert true.

At last one petal stood alone,
Which told of love forgot;
A trusted heart inconstant grown,
He loves me, he loves me not!

Deep, deep my heart was cut with pain,
Oh! bitter, bitter lot,
To love and yet to love in vain!
He loves, he loves me not!

At last I smiled and wildly kiss'd 
its stem and laughing cried
I crush thee thus within my fist!
For daisy, thou hast lied!