Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread upon my dreams.
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: 10
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, 20
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
1804.
The willows’ golden budded branches brim in the winter air.
There is fire –even in winter, even when my heart here
cannot remember the way of Love.–The road curves round
taking me to where I have been, and in the bend,
the willows’ golden budded branches brim.
19 February 1999
There’s a river pouring
From a pure and a crystal stream
And it carries my heart along
Carries me all my life
And I know it will bring me home
There’s a choir singing
With a force that can light the sky
I will join with a voice deep inside
Anthems for joys gone by
And for joys I am sure will come
Golden treasure in the evening sky
It’s good to be alive
Golden measure, hear the music cry
When my heart sings
Of golden things
There’s a dove ascending
Like my thoughts in the summer sky
And she carries my soul along
Clear to eternity
And I know I am not alone
Golden treasure in the evening sky
It’s good to be alive
Golden measure, hear the music cry
When my heart sings
Of golden things
There’s a river pouring
From a pure and a crystal stream
And it carries my heart along
Carries me all my life
And I know it will bring me home
With rue my heart is laden
For golden friends I had,
For many a rose-lipt maiden
And many a lightfoot lad.
By brooks too broad for leaping
The lightfoot boys are laid;
The rose-lipt girls are sleeping
In fields where roses fade.