Daffodils bob on the hill,
The wind maintains its’ winter chill,
It turns their yellow heads to brown
And bends them early to the ground;
The tulips with a stronger will
Replace the drooping daffodils,
With florid heads they burst their buds
While daffodils lay in the mud;
Each flower reigns within its time
And from its glory then declines
And I a man of weathered reason
Stoop knowing I live out of season.
A lovely poem that I enjoyed reading. Now wrote a riff on my Market Day; -)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I am ever so glad to have been here along the path in your season. It is a wonder to me! xoxo