The days are decked in snow
No swallow delights in this kind of cold.
Only the lonely daffodil shows
Bearing signs of freezing dew.
Both day and night,
Sprigs of green I long to clad
What mountain height and field had
Will be covered again with yellow daffodils.
When will Storm Emma wilt thou;
Warm to my native land; Wales
Come back Spring
To all thy glory stand.