| 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. |
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| 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. |
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| The waves beside them danced, but they |
| Outdid 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: |
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| 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. |
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Comment: The strong scent and rich color of daffodils are especially appreciated after winter drabness. Many hills along the roadside around here are covered with daffodils. I like them all but retain a special feeling for the older varieties such as King Alfred.
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