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Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

William Wordsworth

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William Wordsworth
Age: 80 †
Born: 1770
Born: April 7
Died: 1850
Died: April 23
Lyricist
Poet
Cockermouth
Cumbria
Wordsworth
Flower
Pensive
Daffodil
Fluttering
Breeze
Dancing

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He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
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True beauty dwells in deep retreats, Whose veil is unremoved Till heart with heart in concord beats, And the lover is beloved.
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Sweet childish days, that were as long, As twenty days are now.
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There is a comfort in the strength of love 'Twill make a thing endurable, which else would overset the brain, or break the heart.
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There is a luxury in self-dispraise And inward self-disparagement affords To meditative spleen a grateful feast.
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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.
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There's something in a flying horse, There's something in a huge balloon.
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Books! tis a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it.
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But thou that didst appear so fair To fond imagination, Dost rival in the light of day Her delicate creation.
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While all the future, for thy purer soul, With sober certainties of love is blest.
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Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close upon the growing boy.
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But He is risen, a later star of dawn.
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Stay, little cheerful Robin! stay, And at my casement sing, Though it should prove a farewell lay And this our parting spring. * * * * * Then, little Bird, this boon confer, Come, and my requiem sing, Nor fail to be the harbinger Of everlasting spring.
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'Tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes!
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But who shall parcel out His intellect by geometric rules, Split like a province into round and square?
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Plain living and high thinking are no more.
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The holy time is quiet as a nun Breathless with adoration.
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