Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Sugar is sweet,
And so are you.
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;
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.