Daffodils
Life has been busy for the past month or more and I haven't had time to write much of anything. But this morning while perusing Facebook, a question was asked 'What inspired you to start writing poetry?' Thought I'd share my response here on my blog.
Back when I was 9-10 years old, I gave my Mom a little book for her birthday or Mother's Day; it had a bunch of poems, with pictures. One was William Wordsworth's 'Daffodils'. The picture was a beautiful array of yellow daffodils that mesmerized me; the poem and the photo touched my spirit in a way that cannot be explained. I wrote my first poem shortly thereafter. Certainly not a masterpiece, but there began my love of writing. Here is the poem:
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.
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.
I have always loved this poem. Hattie Stillwagon had an old book of poems that she used to let me read when I was little. I think it was an autograph book in which her friends wrote poetic responses. I don't know what ever became of the book. I think a love of poetry runs in the family, a love or words and the ways they can be put together to make enchanting visions.
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