a host of daffodils

Flower Fairies ; Daffodil Aesthetic

“I wander’d 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.” - William Wordsworth

4

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 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 (1815)

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 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, I Wander’d Lonely as a Cloud
4/4/15

I was knocked out
for so many days
that I missed spring begin

earlier it reached down
to tossle my hair

I heard my dad describe
this year’s fledgling garden

“A host of yellow daffodils!” he says

Only his words get caught in
the long tangle of his beard
So it sounds like

“The ghosts should appreciate them”