Inclined with so much grace in yellow, it fills the eye in gentle spills,
It smiles through filtered light of light winds, it is the flower daffodil.
Of hazy cool clouds of the springtime this light and graceful sun foretells,
The promise of the gold of summer, the daffodil calls rains to dwell.
Destructible, crushed by a footstep, the flower disappears in silence,
It cannot spring up through next year, so fragile is the flower’s shyness.
Through spring it lasts and then forever, the summer’s heat destroys its leaves,
The only sign that it was there, are bulbs of roots beneath the trees.
The spring-time’s flower, head inclined, towards the soft brown earth below,
Towards the green of grass just sprouting, foretells a rest from winter’s cold.
It is no wonder then for children, to pick a daffodil or two –
The child is lovely in its sunshine, and it will find there sunshine too.
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