Caressed by gentle early morning breeze,
Their little yellow heads turn to the sun,
Their eager little spirits to unfreeze,
That searching lonely ramblers may have fun;
Sweet lark salutes the day with joyful song,
Resounding o’er somnolent, rolling field;
Anon they will be hosting feathered throng,
A matchless chorus for the heart to yield.
Heralds of Spring, you are, fair daffodils,
Pregnant with pristine beauty, unsurpassed,
The dream of hope in lonely hearts fulfils,
Whose warm embraces transience will outlast.
Though brief your visit be each passing year,
Your sight is balm to many a lingering tear!