Gold tassel upon March's bugle-horn, <br />Whose blithe reveille blows from hill to hill <br />And every valley rings--O Daffodil! <br />What promise for the season newly born? <br />Shall wave on wave of flow'rs, full tide of corn, <br />O'erflow the world, then fruited Autumn fill <br />Hedgerow and garth? Shall tempest, blight, or chill <br />Turn all felicity to scathe and scorn? <br /> <br />Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring <br />Lies open, writ in blossoms; not a bird <br />Of evil augury is seen or heard: <br />Come now, like Pan's old crew, we'll dance and sing, <br />Or Oberon's: for hill and valley ring <br />To March's bugle-horn,--Earth's blood is stirred.<br /><br />William Allingham<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/daffodil-6/
