WITH DAFFODILS

I send you daffodils, my dear,

For these are emperors of spring,

And in my heart you keep so clear

So delicate an empery,

That none but emperors could be

Ambassadors endowed to bring

My messages of honesty.

My mind makes faring to and fro,

Deft or bewildered, dark or kind,

That not the eye of God may know

Which motion is of true estate

And which a twisted runagate

Of all the farings of my mind,

And which has honesty for mate.

Only my love for you is clean

Of scandal’ s use, and though, may be,

Far rangers have my passions been,—

Since thus the word of Eden went,—

Yet of the springs of my content,

My very wells of honesty

Are you the only firmament.