What is it about spring flowers that make us so happy? Is it the shading and hue, the pale yellow blending to lavender in johnny-jump ups? Or the bright green and crisp yellow of daffodils standing at attention? Flowers bring me joy - in their unending varieties, colors, fragrance; they are a silent connection to this magnificent place we call home. But, to me, they are most welcome this time of year, when an unexpected splash of color shouts out "This is a beautiful world!" Wordsworth captured it much better than I ever could, in his poem Daffodils, a simple classic, like it's subject.
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 a sprightly dance.
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 a sprightly dance.
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