Dancing with the daffodils

In my front garden, the daffodils are blooming. Just now as I watched their bright yellow heads bobbing in the spring breeze, I thought of my favorite poet, and how appropriate it is that his birthday falls during daffodil time.

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 was born in England's Lake District on April 7, 1770.

Have a safe and wonderful weekend, everyone. I'll see you back here on Monday.