Day 7 - Daffodils - by William Wordsworth

Since I am heading into the mountains this weekend for a hike, I thought a nice light flowery poem might be appropriate.  I'm hoping to see lots of mountain flowers - bright purple Asters, red, orange, and white Indian Paintbrush, sunny yellow Buttercups, and Moss Heather with tiny white and purple bells.  This particular hike is usually heavily sprinkled with colourful flowers spread across the endless green slopes, and with this weather should be strikingly spectacular against the brilliant blue sky. I hope to lay in the meadow soaking up the warmth, looking up at the vast sky, and catching an imaginary adventure on a drifting cloud. I never feel alone when I am surrounded by this majestic mountain landscape.

But I sometimes wonder if he felt lonely all his life. William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850) was only eight years old when his mother died.  His father sent him to a grammar boarding school.  He published his first poem at 17 years of age, and went on to become the Poet Laureate of the UK awarded by the Prime Minister.  He never wrote poetry after his daughter's death in 1847.  His lengthy autobiographical poem The Prelude post-posthumously became his masterpiece, but I think he is most known for the Daffodils.

Here is my spoken version of this poem:
https://soundcloud.com/raindrop-11/daffodils

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Daffodils - by William Wordsworth

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.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched 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.

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Do you believe this - I read it is sometimes misquoted as "I wandered lonely as a cow".  That's funny.

Here is Jeremy Irons' reading of the poem: