Daffodils bob on the hill,
The wind maintains its’ winter chill,
It turns their yellow heads to brown
And bends them early to the ground;

The tulips with a stronger will
Replace the drooping daffodils,
With florid heads they burst their buds
While daffodils lay in the mud;

Each flower reigns within its time
And from its glory then declines
And I a man of weathered reason
Stoop knowing I live out of season.

David McLansky

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-riff-on-david-wood-s-daffodils/