The Daffodils
When all the world is clad in night’s And the late stars are shining bright, From out the lush green vale arise The daffodils, in purest light.
They dance beneath the shimmering moon, Their golden heads all nodding fair, Embodying the warm sweet tune Of spring, that winds the scented air.
In every breeze their laughter flows, And whispers softly through the trees, With joy to greet the day that glows, Enchanting all who hear the breeze.
- Mary Elizabeth Coleridge