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O Love-star of the unbeloved March,
When cold and shrill,
Forth flows beneath a low, dim-lighted arch
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O Love-star of the unbeloved March,
When cold and shrill,
Forth flows beneath a low, dim-lighted arch
The wind that beats sharp crag and barren hill,
And keeps unfilmed the lately torpid rill!
Fair daffadils, we weep to see
You haste away so soone;
As yet the early-rising sun
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Fair daffadils, we weep to see
You haste away so soone;
As yet the early-rising sun
Has not attained its noone.
. . . .
We have short time to stay as you,
We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay
As you or anything.
"O fateful flower beside the rill--
The Daffodil, the daffodil!"
"O fateful flower beside the rill--
The Daffodil, the daffodil!"
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
When a daffadill I see,
Hanging down his head t'wards me,
Guesse I may, what I must read more
When a daffadill I see,
Hanging down his head t'wards me,
Guesse I may, what I must be:
First, I shall decline my head;
Secondly, I shall be dead:
Lastly, safely buryed.
Then the face of night is fair in the dewy downs
And the shining daffodil dies.
Then the face of night is fair in the dewy downs
And the shining daffodil dies.
The daffodil is our doorside queen;
She pushes upward the sword already,
To spot with sunshine the read more
The daffodil is our doorside queen;
She pushes upward the sword already,
To spot with sunshine the early green.
There is a tiny yellow daffodil,
The butterfly can see it from afar,
Although one summer evening's read more
There is a tiny yellow daffodil,
The butterfly can see it from afar,
Although one summer evening's dew could fill
Its little cup twice over, ere the star
Had called the lazy shepherd to his fold,
And be no prodigal.
Daffy-down-dilly came up in the cold,
Through the brown mould
Although the March breeze blew keen on read more
Daffy-down-dilly came up in the cold,
Through the brown mould
Although the March breeze blew keen on her face,
Although the white snow lay in many a place.