Monday, August 3, 2009


(With apologies to Wordsworth!)

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
And all at once I chanced to see
A group of scrawny daffodils!
Some Anglo-Saxon fantasies
Fluttering and bending in the breeze.
Scattered ungainly, trying hard
To look as Springlike as they could
Doing a 'Wordsworth' in a yard,
Instead of a verdant English wood.
Nurtured all winter for this time
When they could ape a cooler clime.
The growers do not understand
That daffodils don't grow in ones
They mass, they throng, on every hand,
Warmed by some very watery suns.
I gazed and gazed and tried to see
These flowers where they ought to be.
There flashed upon my inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude
Another land, a paler sky,
A softer and a gentler mood.
I pictured them on English hills.
Then my heart danced with the daffodils.
More English nostalgia here:


quilly said...

Daffodils are best when they riot!

Hey Harriet said...

Oh that's brilliant! I love your words!

Mariana Soffer said...

Such a beautiull poem, evoking so nice images, makes me want to stay reading it over and over again, instead of going to work today

Margaret LaVonne Hall said...

Brava! Standing ovation for a poem WELL apologies to Wordsworth due at all!
Have a poetic week...


Lovely sense of nostalgia in the last lines