Why does sunlight fade the carpet but not flowers?
And who is the sun?

Behold the countless eyes of day,
Numberless daisies ashiver with ecstasy upon the meadow field.
The meadow is a pure, radiant meadow.
Sacrifice is love, I think.

No, not a balloon full of laughing gas
Which has but to burst to fill the ether with merriment
Although that is nearly adequate.

A flower too! A flower too!
O, make me a sacrifice!
Make me love!

An eye of day.
Surely, what the simple daisies do I can do,
What can I give who am already given beyond measure?

O, it is a kind of merging,
For the lover and the beloved quite forget themselves
In their passion.