O daffodil, flower saffron-gowned,
Effulgent with the Sun-god's gold,
Thou bring'st the joyous season round!
While yet the earth is blanched and browned,
Thou dost thy amber leaves unfold,
O daffodil, flower saffron-gowned.
We see thee by yon mossy mound,
Wave from thy stalks each pennon bold,—
Thou bring'st the joyous season round!
Fair child of April, promise-crowned,
We longed for thee when winds were cold,
O daffodil, flower saffron-gowned.
Again we hear the merry sound
Of sweet birds singing love-songs old,—
Thou bring'st the joyous season round!
Again we feel our hearts rebound
With pleasures by thy birth foretold,—
O daffodil, flower saffron-gowned,
Thou bring'st the joyous season round!
Clinton Scollard.
SPRING KNOCKS AT WINTER'S FROSTY DOOR.
Spring knocks at winter's frosty door:
In boughs by wild March breezes swayed
The bonnie bluebirds sing once more.