You are hereMore about Daffodils
More about Daffodils
They are beginning to wither from the garden. They have withstood wind and rain. Bright sunshine brought them to bloom, mist and low cloud did not dull their jocund trumpets, but the flesh withers and the flower fades, seasons turn and the daffodils dwine.
So before they die, here are some thoughts from the poets on daffodils.
Briefest and best:
Daffodils, that come before the swallow dares, and take the winds of March with beauty...
(Shakespeare, A Winter's Tale
Here's Herrick, a contemporary:
Fair daffodils,we weep to see
you haste away so soon,
as yet the early rising morn
hath not attained its noon.
Stay, stay, until the hasting day
hath run but to the even-song
and, having prayed together,
we will go with you along.
That's quoted from memory, so I might have made mistakes. Herrick goes on to reflect on the transience of life for human beings as for daffodils...
George Mackay Brown in Orkney called daffodils 'three shawled Marys'. For him they symbolised the bursting forth of spring and also resurrection.
his last ever poem (written on Palm Sunday 1996to my grand-daughter) begins,
Heather, carry a palm today,
carry a daffodil like a lit taper....
Let's carry the brightness of daffodils into the days ahead
Another poem from the Clarissa collection. I speak in Clarissa's voice, highlighting her loss when her child was removed.
Clarissa’s call
Your nursery still catches the morning sun,
although your cot has long since gone.
New-born baby cards, one by one
dropped from the empty wall –
and all because I made that call.
They say I’m not well, but it’s not true;
wherever you are, you know it too.
I called because I care so much for you.
A mother always knows what’s best to do!
That phone call voiced my concern.
The police were planning to storm our home,
tamper with your precious brain.
I had to keep you safe from harm.
The authorities took action without delay!
“An ambulance is on its way.
Put Baby in her little sling.
It’s time for long-term fostering.”
I’ll never forget that disastrous day.
Your eyes, when they drove you away
looked so helplessly back at me –
I sensed you knew what was to be.
I tried to guard you from a world gone mad,
protect you from everything that’s bad:
powerful voices, banging-shut of doors;
footsteps tramping down long corridors,
care orders, control by force.
I gave you safety with my mothering,
and now your birthday has come round again;
but today, as they thrust that needle in,
something happened, such a sweet, secret thing
- like brush of angel wing:
I heard you calling
and felt my own heart sing.