Daffodil

Who passes down the wintry street?

Hey, ho, Daffodil!

A sudden flame of gold and sweet.

With sword of emerald girt so meet

And golden gay from head to feet.

How are you here this wintry day?

Hey, ho, Daffodil!

Your radiant fellows yet delay.

No wind-flower dances scarlet gay,

Nor crocus flame lights up the way.

What land of cloth o' gold and green,

Hey, ho, Daffodil!

Cloth o' gold with the green between,

Was that you left but yestere'en

To light a gloomy world and mean?

King trumpeter to Flora queen,

Hey, ho, Daffodil!

Blow, and the golden jousts begin.

—Katharine Tynan Hinkson.