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Daffodils by William Wordsworth

April is National Poetry Month


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 leaves 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.

Please leave your favorite in the comments so we all can discover more.

Comments

  1. I love poetry. I remember discovery the "Sonnets from the Portuguese" by E.B. Browning at a young age. She and Robert Frost are my favorites to this day, although I have widened my scope over the years.

    My favorite sonnet is Sonnet 14 "If thou must love me..." My favorite R. Frost is "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening". I titled my first blog after that poem. Of course, "The Road Less Traveled" is another fav. The older I get, the more I see in both authors' poems.


    "The Touch of the Masters Hand" by Myra 'Brooks' Welch is a family favorite. I would love to have it shared with others!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Couldn't resist posting it Laurie...

    The Touch of the Masters Hand

    Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneer
    thought it scarcely worth his while to waste much time on the old violin,
    but held it up with a smile; "What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
    "Who'll start the bidding for me?" "A dollar, a dollar"; then two!" "Only
    two? Two dollars, and who'll make it three? Three dollars, once; three
    dollars twice; going for three.." But no, from the room, far back, a
    gray-haired man came forward and picked up the bow; Then, wiping the dust
    from the old violin, and tightening the loose strings, he played a melody
    pure and sweet as caroling angel sings.

    The music ceased, and the auctioneer, with a voice that was quiet and low,
    said; "What am I bid for the old violin?" And he held it up with the bow.
    A thousand dollars, and who'll make it two? Two thousand! And who'll make
    it three? Three thousand, once, three thousand, twice, and going and
    gone," said he. The people cheered, but some of them cried, "We do not
    quite understnad what changed its worth." Swift came the reply: "The touch
    of a master's hand."

    And many a man with life out of tune, and battered and scarred with sin,
    Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowd, much like the old violin, A
    "mess of pottage," a glass of wine; a game - and he travels on. "He is
    going" once, and "going twice, He's going and almost gone." But the Master
    comes, and the foolish crowd never can quite understand the worth of a soul
    and the change that's wrought by the touch of the Master's hand.

    Myra 'Brooks' Welch

    Someone put this to music and it truly is inspiring.

    ReplyDelete

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