Merry Maudlin Poem by Daniel Thomason

Credulous seclusions magnified in the womb of a daffodil,
The tip of a blade creeps in the needles of a rising lawn,
Ol' daffodil cannot flee, cannot hide nor fight,
So in the womb She tries, oh She tries to depart

Hortatory talks between Her blooming darling daffodils,
'What shall I do, how shall I blossom? '
Shan't the wind free Me quickly, '
Shan't the sky birth My beauty? '

As the grass parts side-to-side a minion so thorough by,
Ol' daffodil's perspiring glow is drained deeper than the cold, dark sea,
The blade it parts, and the head it maims,
Drifting away with Ol' daffodil with light tears on Her buds...