Spring-beauty is a gipsy
Who travels by my road,
And makes my April pasture
The place of her abode.
 
Dark Trillium in purple,
Hepatica in gray,
Spread mystery of their coming
Through woodlands where they stray.
 
The Windflowers that gather
Along the orchard wall
In welcome flutter toward me,
Yet never speak at all.
 
But after all the wilding,
I only love the more
The gold-hearted Daffies
That crowd about my door.