The Daffodils.

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 Outdid the sparkling waves in glee :

A poet could not be but 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.

Some steady love, some brief delight,
Some memory that had taken flight,
Some chime of fancy wrong or right,
Or stray invention.

If stately passions in me burn,

And one chance look to thee should turn,

I drink out of an humbler urn

A lowlier pleasure;

The homely sympathy that heeds
The common life our nature breeds;
A wisdom fitted to the needs

Of hearts at leisure.

When, smitten by the morning ray,
I see thee rise, alert and gay,
Then, cheerful flower! my spirits play
With kindred gladness;

And when, at dusk, by dews opprest,
Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest
Hath often eased my pensive breast
Of careful sadness.

And all day long I number yet,
All seasons through, another debt,
Which I, wherever thou art met,

To thee am owing;