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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 13, Issue 6 (September 1, 1938)

The Daffodil Boy

The Daffodil Boy.

David was golden,
David was fey;
On a daffodil eve
He was stolen away,
And was given a bugle
Before he was seven,
To blow the hours in
From the ramparts of heaven.
A legend grew round him,
And people declared
In the loopholes of sunset
His shape had appeared,
With a daffodil bugle
As bright as the gleam
Of the intricate woof
In a daffodil dream.
David heard footsteps
That passed in the dew,
Had friends in the garden
That nobody knew
And a presence to guard him
At dark of the night,
With wings that were silver,
And feet that were white.
If David from boyhood
Had burgeoned and grown,
As a gentle-voiced prophet
He might have been known,
For he knew that the battles
Of earth could be won
With the bugles of wind
And the shafts of the sun.

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