Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.
Deprivation is for me what daffodils were for Wordsworth.
I think of the poetry of René Char and all he must have seen and suffered that has brought him to speak only of sedgy rivers, of daffodils and tulips whose roots they water, even to the free-flowing river that laves the rootlets of those sweet-scented flowers that people the milky waywilliam carlos williams
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.john masefield
Deprivation is for me what daffodils were for Wordsworth.philip larkin
I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils. Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.william wordsworth
A host of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.william wordsworth
An exquisite invention this, Worthy of Love's most honeyed kiss, This art of writing billet-doux In buds, and odors, and bright hues! In saying all one feels and thinks In clever daffodils and pinks; In puns of tulips; and in phrases, Charming for their truth, of daisies.leigh hunt
It is not raining rain to me, It's raining daffodils; In every dimpled drop I see wild flowers on distant hills.Robert Loveman
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart wih pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.william wordsworth
I wandered lonelyas a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.william wordsworth
O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let’st fall From Dis’s waggon! 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 Phœbus 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!