The official botanical name of the daffodil is Narcissus. Daffodil is the
common name. Of
course, you don’t need to know the botanical names to enjoy daffodils.
The tragic love story of Narcissus and Echo. Remember Narcissus? Know people who
are narcissistic? It all flows from the famous Greek myth about Narcissus, the
handsome youth who was granted his great good looks by the Gods. But as in most
myths, there was a catch. His beauty was permanent and he was immortal, as long
as he never viewed his own reflection. Once, while Narcissus was hunting in the
woods, a nubile wood nymph named Echo saw him from her hiding place behind a
tree. He was so handsome, she fell desperately in love, but Narcissus spurned
her. She was so devastated by his rejection that she wept and wailed, and was
ultimately consumed by her love. She pined so that soon all that was left of her
was her voice. The prophecy of her name had come true. But the Gods were not
pleased. The goddess, Nemesis, heard about poor Echo, and lured Narcissus to a
shimmering lake. There in his vain state, he was unable to resist gazing at his
own reflection, and fell in love with himself! As he gazed, the divine penalty
took effect, and he simply faded away. In his place sprang up the golden flower
that bears his name today. Now you know how Daffodils came to be, and also why
psychologists warn vain patients about the “Narcissus complex.”
From the ancient poets to Wordsworth and beyond. For all time, it seems, the
daffodil has inspired the poet, and even today, nothing connotes the renewal of
spring to us as dramatically as a drift of fresh daffodils swaying in a meadow.
William Wordsworth, the legendary British poet, perhaps said it best when he
wrote of the flowers in his classic poem, “Daffodils”, published in 1804. This
is the poem that so artfully describes the poet viewing “ten thousand” daffodils
beside a lake, and is also the source of the phrase, “Dancing with Daffodils.”
(picture captions are below.)
Daffodils
By William Wordsworth
I wander’d 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;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch'd in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
Mylar
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