"Daffy-down-dilly

Is new come to town,

With a petticoat green,

And a bright yellow gown,

And her little white blossoms

Are peeping around."

Now don't you call this

A most exquisite thing?

Don't it give you a thrill

With the thought of the spring,

Such as once, in your childhood,

You felt, when you found

The first yellow buttercups

Spangling the ground?

When the lilac was fresh

With its glory of leaves,

And the swallows came fluttering

Under the eaves?

When the bluebird flashed by

Like a magical thing,

And you looked for a fairy

Astride of his wing?

When the clear, running water,

Like tinkling of bells,

Bore along the bare roadside

A song of the dells,—

And the mornings were fresh

With unfailing delight,

While the sweet summer hush

Always came with the night?

O' daffy-down-dilly,

With robings of gold Î

As our hearts every year

To your coming unfold,

And sweet memories stir

Through the hardening mould,

We feel how earth's blossomings

Surely are given

To keep the soul fresh

For the spring-time of heaven!