Loveliest of flowers, the daffodils,
From springtime gardens rise and spill
    Their beauty to the world around,
    Bulbs deep in the still-cold ground.

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In wintry winds they toss their heads, 
And some lie broken on their beds,
      But all of them announce with pride
      That spring has come!  It’s Eastertide!

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In yellow, white, in pink or gold,
They shiver quietly in the cold.
     In gardens, parks and cemeteries 
     They billow colour to the breeze.
    
Who knows what next year has in store,
But in my mind I keep a drawer
     In which preserved scenes such as this
     Will later bring me inner bliss.    

         

Thank God for all the springtime flowers
That withstand winds and April showers,
    And, year by year in full perfection,
    Speak confidently of resurrection.

 

Copyright on my poems

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