Daffodils, with eyes Turned always toward the East At day's end, Hopeful of new dawns As darks descend; Indifferent that day ends Sorrowfully, or glad, Yours is heritage Of never seeming sad. Your quiet sureness mocks my fever, Pities my apprehension and small tears; And in your cool remoteness Is scorn of little fears That go with me. In your acceptances A worth immeasurable To life you lend... You, who through unnumbered years, Have turned your faces Toward the East at day's end, -- Expectant of new dawns As darks descend! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEAD LEAVES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE WILLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |