TO AN IRIS 81 



How are you here this wintry day ? 



Hey, ho, daffodil ! 

 Your radiant fellows yet delay. 

 No windflower dances scarlet gay, 

 Nor crocus-flame lights up the way. 



What land of cloth o' gold and green, 



Hey, ho, daffodil ! 



Cloth o' gold with the green between, 

 Was that you left but yestere'en 

 To light a gloomy world and mean ? 



King trumpeter to Flora queen, 



Hey, ho, daffodil ! 

 Blow, and the golden jousts begin. 



KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON. 



TO AN IRIS 



THOU art a golden Iris 



Under a purple wall, 

 Whereon the burning sunlight 



And greening shadows fall. 



What Summer night's enchantment 

 Took up the garden mould, 



And with the falling star-dust 

 Refined it to such gold ? 



What wonder of white magic 



Bidding thy soul aspire, 

 Filled that luxurious body 



With languor and with fire ? 



