DAFFODILS

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vale 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 stetched in a never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay.

A poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company.
For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or pensive mood
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude.

William Wordsworth