A Serious Question.

[billy]

Where do daffodils go when dead.
Do they sleep or ever dance
with the non-beating heart of William the wordsmith,
and flash upon his inward eye in their thousand,
enshrining him with a jocund company of golden heads.

Do they haste away, and with Herrick
pray at even-song to morn their own demise;
as on the pearls of morning dew they fade
away while other poets weep at noon,
and feel the hours dry like summers rains that pass too soon