April Poem by Roy Ballard

The daffodils all wear the paper ruff,
the six-fold yoke of April, cruel lord.
They show the colours of their noble lines
on herald trumpets coloured orange, red
or sulphur yellow or the palest peach,
exclusive ensigns of ancestral dye.
Only the well adorned
are fit to dandy in his dire court,
to bend and bow before the shifting winds
of chancy April;
who brings hail despite the sun;
breaks necks despite beauty;
and of a sudden often lays them low.