Today's blog is another encore post,
first published March 4, 2012 under the title "Dance of the Daffodils."
I have always loved these bright yellow flowers.
If not for robins and daffodils, would we be as certain spring had arrived?
There is no spring flower more eagerly anticipated than the daffodil.
When the first shoots of green leaves appear,
the heart stirs with optimism.
When the first bud appears, delight.
Daffodil blossoms bow their heads in grace
and brighten melancholy days.
I don't think anyone can express better
than Wordsworth the joy of seeing daffodils in the spring.
So today I'm sharing the first and last stanzas
of his poem about daffodils:
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
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. . . .
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.
Wordsworth wrote this poem in 1804,
after coming upon a mass of daffodils
while walking with his sister.