The Daffodils
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Another year the daffodils will rise,
For centuries, millennia again,
Perhaps for eons. Yellow trumpets’ cries
Though silent will announce anew the reign
Of health and newness, herald trumpet bells
More beautiful than royal fanfares made
Of brass. From underground their bulbs like wells
Will raise a royalty in April shade
And greensward slope a brighter gold than gold.
The silent music of their blowing will
Raise up the future and will brightly scold
The winter grimness from a springtime hill.
..When you and I are gone to otherwhere,
….The daffodils will play in April air.