I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud : 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 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.

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A Farewell by William Wordsworth

FAREWELL, thou little Nook of mountain-ground,

Thou rocky corner in the lowest stair

Of that magnificent temple which doth bound

One side of our whole vale with grandeur rare;

Sweet garden-orchard, eminently fair,

The loveliest spot that man hath ever found,

Farewell!--we leave thee to Heaven's peaceful care,

Thee, and the Cottage which thou dost surround.

Our boat is safely anchored by the shore,

And there will safely ride when we are gone;

The flowering shrubs that deck our humble door

Will prosper, though untended and alone:

Fields, goods, and far-off chattels we have none:

These narrow bounds contain our private store

Of things earth makes, and sun doth shine upon;

Here are they in our sight--we have no more.

 Sunshine and shower be with you, bud and bell!

For two months now in vain we shall be sought:

We leave you here in solitude to dwell

With these our latest gifts of tender thought;

Thou, like the morning, in thy saffron coat,

Bright gowan, and marsh-marigold, farewell!

Whom from the borders of the Lake we brought,

And placed together near our rocky Well.

We go for One to whom ye will be dear;

And she will prize this Bower, this Indian shed,

Our own contrivance, Building without peer!

--A gentle Maid, whose heart is lowly bred,

Whose pleasures are in wild fields gathered,

With joyousness, and with a thoughtful cheer,

Will come to you; to you herself will wed;

And love the blessed life that we lead here.

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