The Daffodils of Old Saint Paul's

Call delicately through the town;
"Let April have its will;
Oh run; oh, run to Old Saint Paul's
And buy a daffodil!

A rosy vicar saw their kind
Three hundred years ago,
And thrust them on a Devon shelf
Where they are still in blow.

Could Herrick come to Old Saint Paul's
With our tall flowers so gay,
He would not have the heart indeed
To tear himself away.

The hawker sets them on the curb
Like candles thereabout;
Oh, buy your one; oh, buy your two,
Before they splutter out!"