The new sprung Daffodils
lift their yellow faces and beg the Sun
to reflect their simple glory.
"Come dance with us," they ask the Wind
"And whisper little secrets to our eager, silent hearts."
But scornfully the Sun remains
behind his cloudy screen,
And bids the Wind ignore
their dearest, sweetest pleas.
They droop. Their yellow dresses fade.
"We don't have long to live!" they say.
"We'll play with you another day"
the Sun replies, indifferant to their sighs.
And so the Daffodils die.