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“ 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;  Beside the lake, beneath the trees,  Fluttering and dancing in the breeze”.  William Wordsworth (1770 -  1850). Golden daffodils, yellow daffodils! Wonderful! I’m Yellow, yes!

Moreover, I'm just like gold, and therefore I'm precious, like saffron powder.

Mind what you say, or I'll peck you! So many birds have yellow beaks. To pointy, you say? Oh come now, think of a chick: can you think of a fluffier or tinier creature?

Precious, that's how I feel: topaz, Chinese raw silk, a dragonfly trapped in clear amber, even polished, translucent jade.

All right, I'll come down, and be a rose, a wild tulip, the sweet-smelling calycanthus, that blossoms on the edge of winter, and the sturdy dandelion and the cute mimosa with its spring-like fuzzy little globes.

Try and wear yellow: you won't go unnoticed. I believe they are right when they say that I'm cheerful, that I make people happy, like an omelet for a picnic, good even served cold!

Put a couple yolks in a small bowl or a cup, add two spoonfuls of sugar, and whip until you can't feel the sugar anymore: just like that, plain on a slice of bread, I'm a great Yellow. If you are feeling grand, add in a cup of milk (no, I won't catch anything, never fear!), some lemon peel, and keep stirring as you cook it: I'll be your yellow, thick, fragrant cream.