Whispers of Immortality, by T. S. Eliot
Webster was much possessed by death
And saw th...
Daffodil Poems
Foresight, by William Wordsworth
That is work of waste and ruin
Do as Charles a...
Alter?, by Emily Dickinson
Alter? When the hills do.
Falter? When the sun...
Perhaps You'd Like to Buy a Flower?, by Emily Dickinson
Perhaps you'd like to buy a flower?
But I coul...
Pickthorn Manor, by Amy Lowell
I How fresh the Dartle's little waves that day...
To an Early Daffodil, by Amy Lowell
Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard Spring!
Thou ...
White and Green, by Amy Lowell
Hey! My daffodil-crowned,
Slim and without sa...
Foresight, by William Wordsworth
That is work of waste and ruin
Do as Charles a...
Alexis, by Virgil
Alexis, beauteous, and his lord's delight,
...
Daffodil Gold, by Clinton Scollard
Gold of the daffodil, drawn
Out of the cup of...
Sylvia in the Springtime, by Clinton Scollard
Voice of the youth of the year,
Wren song and...
Easter, by Horace G. Groser
The blind bare world cries for the living Sprin...
March Winds, by Horace G. Groser
Blow, winds of March, and bring the brighteni...
Kiss II, by Johannes Secundus
As round some neighbouring elm the vine
Its am...
A Daffodil Day, by Teresa Hooley
All day long blew the daffodils,
Oh, what a ...
The Turn of the Year, by Teresa Hooley
To-day is January still,
Yet, fugitive and h...