Sunday, March 26, 2017
Sunday Morning Peace--The Daffodils
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
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
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee;
A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company;
What wealth the show to me had brought.
For oft, when on my couch I lie,
In vacant or in pensive mood,
The 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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