GOLD of the daffodil, drawn Out of the cup of the dawn, Gold of the daffodil, born In the bright mines of the morn, Gold of the daffodil, spun On the warm loom of the sun, Flood through my spirit, and smite Me with thine orient light! I that am pallid and poor, Wasted by winter away, Be thou my succor and cure! Quicken my questioning clay! That I may rouse me and sing, Touch thou my pulses with Spring! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE HAPPIEST HEART by JOHN VANCE CHENEY GOD'S WORLD by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY EPIGRAM: PERJURY by ROBERT NUGENT THE MORAL FABLES: THE SHEEP AND THE DOG by AESOP REMINISCENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH LYSISTRATA: HOW THE WOMEN WILL STOP WAR by ARISTOPHANES |