DANCING WITH THE DAFFODILS

I’m off to take Mama Bore to the doctor and don’t have time to write, so today I’m borrowing from my personal poet pal William (“Billy,” to his friends) Wordsworth (1770-1850) to accompany a vase of daffodils (real) presently on display at Casa de la Flaming Bore. Enjoy! We’re only one day away from Spring!

"Daffodils" (1804)

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.