As I was walking, as a cloud
That floats on high on top of hills
And tall mountains, I saw a crowd,
A host, of shining daffodils;
By sand and wood, all bright and fair,
Flitting, floating, dancing in air.
Continuous as stars that glow
And burn to form our Milky Way
Was that undying floral row
Along a margin of a bay.
A myriad saw I in a short
Instant, blooming in sprightly sport.
Though tidal jig was glad that day,
That jig was not half as happy.
An author could not but turn gay
In such a jocund company.
I saw –and saw– but I thought not
Of what joy such a show had brought:
For oft, as on my couch I sit
Vacant or thoughtful, on my own
I inwardly flash back to it
In bliss knowing what I was shown.
And so my soul up with joy fills,
Cavorting among daffodils.