He's pushing up the daisies

Spring has come when you can put your foot on three daisies

Thou unassuming Commonplace Of Nature.

We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.

The poet's darling.

That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.