I wandered lonely as 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 in the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay : Ten thousasnd saw I at a glance, Tossing their head 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... Show more I wandered lonely as 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 in the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay : Ten thousasnd saw I at a glance, Tossing their head 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; 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. — William Wordsworth Show less
I wandered lonely as 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 in the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay : Ten thousasnd saw I at a glance, Tossing their head 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; 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. — William Wordsworth
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