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!

"O fateful flower beside the rill--
The Daffodil, the daffodil!"

"O fateful flower beside the rill--
The Daffodil, the daffodil!"

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.

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.

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.

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.

I would I had some flowers o' th' spring that might
Become your time of day, and yours, and read more

I would I had some flowers o' th' spring that might
Become your time of day, and yours, and yours,
That wear upon your virgin branches yet
Your maidenheads growing. O, Proserpina,
For the flowers now that, frighted, thou let'st fall
From Dis's wagon; daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim,
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses,
That die unmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength--a malady
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds,
The flower-de-luce being one.

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.

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.