One daffodil does not a spring make

One daffodil doesn't make a spring in our wintry hearts.

It needs a leucojum, too.

And maybe a butterfly or two.

But for the poet, William Wordsworth, all it took was a crowd of daffodils to rouse him from his lonely state and make him rejoice in being alive. And that is the very essence of spring.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

It's already been spring for several weeks where I am, but if the season hasn't reached you yet, be assured that it is on its way and when it does, I hope you'll find that your heart "dances with the daffodils."