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.

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!

What ye have been ye still shall be
When we are dust the dust among,
O yellow read more

What ye have been ye still shall be
When we are dust the dust among,
O yellow flowers!

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.

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.

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.

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.

It is daffodil time, so the robins all cry,
For the sun's a big daffodil up in the sky,
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It is daffodil time, so the robins all cry,
For the sun's a big daffodil up in the sky,
And when down the midnight the owl call "to-whoo"!
Why, then the round moon is a daffodil too;
Now sheer to the bough-tops the sap starts to climb,
So, merry my masters, it's daffodil time.

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.