FLOWERS O’ THE SPRING. 
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 Phoebus in his strength—a malady 
Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips, and 
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds— 
The flowers-de-luce being one ! O ! these I lack 
To make you garlands of. 
Shakespeare. 
DAFFODILS. 
Fair daffodils, we weep to see 
You haste away so soon ; 
As yet the early-rising sun 
Has not attain’d his noon. 
Stay, stay, 
