‘Monmouth Gold Daffodil’ - a poem for St David’s Day, written by Elizabeth Smith.

Courtly Prince of Spring, crowned with Royal Gold,

Each year, you keep your secret tryst

With those who went before, the citizens of old.

Not even the earth, tomb-stone cold,

Can halt your silent battles,

Rapiers thrusting ever upwards,

Slicing through the fortressed sod,

Finally each freshly-cast green sword meets only air

And heralds your arrival

Turning our bleak gardens into guarded castles,

Fit for Welsh princesses and legendary Kings.

The cruel, lion winds of March trumpet your fanfare

And each daffodil with uplifted lance, is set to

Canter and prance across the land

Along rustic roads and wending lanes

Where dragons once trod

Rallying troops and the grass to vigour,

Confusing the sun to dare out-shine

Your pure, golden attire,

Coinage for saintly David to be recrowned King

And for Henrys Agincourt to live again

Dazzling Monmouth Gold, pageantry of spring.