Fool's Parsley

Fool's parsley stands, defiant, on the ridge 
Where the grass ends, and only chalk dips sheer 
For bank on either side; and near the bridge 
Shadowing a little river crystal clear. 
Fool's parsley holds its own, and keeps in fear 
All pushing daisies that would peep and peer. 

There is no place for any rival here — 
No space for daisies that would foothold find 
Amid the stones, and match their gold and white 
Against this glistening flower that fears no wind, 
And will not fold itself against the night. 
And, overmatched in beauty, still will fight.