Fair Daffodils, we weep to seeYou haste away so soon:As yet the early-rising SunHas not attain’d his noon.Stay, stay,Until the hasting dayHas runBut to the even-song;And, having pray’d together, weWill go with you along.
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We have short time to stay, as you,We have as short a Spring;As quick a growth to meet decay,As you, or any thing.We die,As your hours do, and dryAway,Like to the Summer’s rain;Or as the pearls of morning’s dewNe’er to be found again.
