Monday, March 19, 2012

Monday's Poetry: "Daffodils"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

This week marks the beginning of spring - my favorite season.  And it is certainly starting to feel like spring here on Okinawa.  Our winter, such that it was, lasted longer than usual, but now the temperatures have settled into the seventies and eighties, the birds are singing, and the warm breezes are blowing.  The flowers on Okinawa bloom all year round, but right now they are especially lovely.

This past Saturday night two good friends, Murphy and Nefredia, took me out to dinner out of respect for my advanced years.  After a fine meal at the Macaroni Grill, we came back to my place and walked from there to American Village (about a mile) where we planned to listen to some jazz.  We never found a venue that we liked, and instead spent most of the evening just walking around American Village and looking in the shops.  But the weather was the highlight of the evening.  The night was balmy, the night was delightful, and we had a wonderful time just being with each other and enjoying the fine spring evening!

And somehow all of that got me to thinking about my little farm, Rock's Roost, back in the Ozarks.  One of the last things that I did in the fall of 2004 before moving away the following January, was to plants lots and lots of flower bulbs:  crocus, hyacinths, tulips, and, of course, my favorites - daffodils.  In fact, I dug a substantial trench next to the road where I planted dozens, if not hundreds, of daffodil bulbs.  And now, over seven years later, I have yet to be home at the right time to see the blooms.  I hope they are blooming right now, and I hope they are beautiful.

So, for today's poetry selection, I am happy to share William Wordsworth's best effort:  Daffodils, sometimes also known as I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.

Happy spring - and go fly a kite!

by William Wordsworth

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.  

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