The Lent Lily

by A. E. Housman
'Tis spring; come out to ramble
 The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
 About the hollow ground
 The primroses are found.
And there's the windflower chilly
 With all the winds at play,
And there's the Lenten lily
 That has not long to stay
 And dies on Easter day.
And since till girls go maying
 You find the primrose still,
And find the windflower playing
 With every wind at will,
 But not the daffodil,
Bring baskets now, and sally
 Upon the spring's array,
And bear from hill and valley
 The daffodil away
 That dies on Easter day.