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...A POET'S WELCOME TO HIS LOVE-BEGOTTEN DAUGHTER by ROBERT BURNS SONG (2) by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI POLITICAL GREATNESS by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 9. VISION OF THE WORLD by T. BAKER GROWTH by MILDRED TELFORD BARNWELL TO THE MARQUIS LA FAYETTE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |