The Roman road - England
F. Hart
As he went down the Roman Road
In March or thereabout,
A slender, wild, unbroken gold,
The daffodils were out.
Sudden along the Roman Road
He saw the wind come down,
Behind the golden daffodils,
And drive them into town.
A moment. Yet almost it seemed —
That moment was of old;
A company of spears went by,
All Roman, and all gold.