I love daffodils. I love Narcissus when he bends his head. I can hardly keep March and spring and Sunday and daffodils Out of my rhyme of song. Do you know anything about the spring When it comes again? God knows about it while winter is lasting. Flowers bring him power in the spring, And birds bring it, and children. He is sometimes sad and alone Up there in the sky trying to keep his worlds happy. I bring him songs When he is in his sadness, and weary. I tell him how I used to wander out To study stars and the moon he made, And flowers in the dark of the wood. I keep reminding him about his flowers he has forgotten, And that snowdrops are up. What can I say to make him listen? "God," I say, "Don't you care! Nobody must be sad or sorry In the spring-time of flowers." WATER The world turns softly Not to spill its lakes and rivers. The water is held in its arms And the sky is held in the water. What is water, That pours silver, And can hold the sky? SHADY BRONN When the clouds come deep against the sky I sit alone in my room to think, To remember the fairy dreams I made, Listening to the rustling out of the trees. The stories in my fairy-tale book Come new to me every day. But at my farm on the hill-top I have the wind for a fairy, And the shapes of things: Shady Bronn is the name of my little farm: It is the name of a dream I have Where leaves move, And the wind rings them like little bells. CHICKADEE The chickadee in the appletree Talks all the time very gently. He makes me sleepy. I rock away to the sea-lights. Far off I hear him talking The way smooth bright pebbles Drop into water . . . Chick-a-dee-dee-dee . . . THE CHAMPLAIN SANDMAN The Sandman comes pattering across the Bay: His hair is silver, His footstep soft. The moon shines on his silver hair, On his quick feet. The Sandman comes searching across the Bay: He goes to all the houses he knows To put sand in little girls' eyes. That is why I go to my sleepy bed, And why the lake-gull leaves the moon alone. There are no wings to moonlight any more, Only the Sandman's hair. ROSE-MOSS Little Rose-moss beside the stone, Are you lonely in the garden? There are no friends of you, And the birds are gone. Shall I pick you?" "Little girl up by the hollyhock, I am not lonely. I feel the sun burning, I hold light in my cup, I have all the rain I want, I think things to myself that you don't know, And I listen to the talk of crickets. I am not lonely, But you may pick me And take me to your mother." ABOUT MY DREAMS