Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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THE DAFFODIL. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
THE DAFFODIL.
When a verdure clothes the hill,
Comes the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
Bowing to the icy blast
Oft with snow about it cast,
Breathing stories of the past;
Brightly nodding
To the plodding
Gardener at his daily toil,
Till the sunset on the hill;
Like a king to scatter spoil,
Turning into gold the soil;
Though it's but the Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
Comes the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
Bowing to the icy blast
Oft with snow about it cast,
Breathing stories of the past;
Brightly nodding
To the plodding
Gardener at his daily toil,
Till the sunset on the hill;
Like a king to scatter spoil,
Turning into gold the soil;
Though it's but the Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
When in music leaps the rill,
Laughs the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
Though in March is bitter air
And it has no sheltered lair,
Laughs to find itself so fair;
Gently lisping
With its crisping
Stalks to any idle gust
Or the ripples of the rill,
In a sweet and simple trust
Lisping just because it must
And it is the Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
Laughs the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
Though in March is bitter air
And it has no sheltered lair,
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Gently lisping
With its crisping
Stalks to any idle gust
Or the ripples of the rill,
In a sweet and simple trust
Lisping just because it must
And it is the Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
With a balm for every ill,
Blows the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
Give me not the cursed gold
Making hearts of pity cold
And the face of childhood old;
But the metal
Of its petal,
Better far than precious ore
With a freshness above ill
Which the mint of Nature bore
To enrich our treasure store;
Yes, we love the Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
Blows the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
Give me not the cursed gold
Making hearts of pity cold
And the face of childhood old;
But the metal
Of its petal,
Better far than precious ore
With a freshness above ill
Which the mint of Nature bore
To enrich our treasure store;
Yes, we love the Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
Wildly let it grow at will,
Bless the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
For it takes no common part
With a beauty more than art,
And is rooted in our heart;
While the pages
Of the ages,
If they blazon feast or fight
Chronicles of strength or skill
Never miss thine Eden light
Which leaves wood and meadow bright,
Home more home, dear Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
Bless the yellow Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil;
For it takes no common part
With a beauty more than art,
And is rooted in our heart;
While the pages
Of the ages,
If they blazon feast or fight
Chronicles of strength or skill
76
Which leaves wood and meadow bright,
Home more home, dear Daffodil,
Daffodil,
Daffodil.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |