I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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.

_____________________________________________________

Dear diary,

Today began as a very boring day and again I totally didn’t know what to do.
The holidays started and everyone was gone. That made me feel quite lonely, but then I read
a little article in the newspaper about a national park: Lake District. I had nothing
better to do and I had never been there before. So it seemed like a good plan to go there
today.   Meanwhile I did asked to myself that moment: ‘What am I doing with my life? What’s the meaning of life?’ But then I still took my car and drove to the park.

After I arrived I parked my car and went into the park. I walked along the road without a real
purpose. And then I saw the lake. It was very beautiful and, when I stood there at the shore,
I suddenly saw a group of yellow daffodils. The sun was shining and that made them look
almost golden. Then I had to stand still for a moment to look at the beautiful flowers
underneath a tree. It looked as if angels threw some sunrays over them.

But there still was a little breeze that made the daffodils flutter and dance in the wind. I looked further and I discovered more groups of daffodils along the margin of the lake. It was
an elongated row of daffodils! They were with more than I thought. I couldn’t even see where
the row stopped anymore. It was like watching the night sky, or a beautiful sunrise; There’s so much they hold. They made me so happy that i secretly did a little dance of joy with them.
Like I already said there was a breeze. So it was a very little stormy day. That made the
waves in the lake look like they danced with us. It was a sparkling spectacle. I think that at
that moment there wasn’t even one girl as happy as this one with the cheery flowers as
her company. But did she also realized that when she was there? I was participating just
like the waves in the lake and nothing more. It was only later, when I was back home and I
lay my the couch again, thinking of all myfriends who are on holiday and when the
feeling of loneliness started to come back, that I thought back on the golden daffodils and I
realized how much happiness they had brought to me. I knew what I was doing with
my life and so I stood up from the couch and I danced with those daffodils in my mind.
And as I’m writing this in my diary, I have to smile again.

I’ll see you tomorrow, Diary!

Lots of love,
Dorothy Cloud

by Anonymous

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I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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.

_____________________________________________________

So there I was, sitting in front of my house, looking at people walking home from work.
The sun goes down. I looked at the joint in my left hand, there’s not much left. I took a hit and looked at sun. Yellow, orange, purple, red. I wondered how such a simple thing, that we see everyday, could suddenly become so beautiful.

I took another hit. Now all at once I saw a crowd. I have never noticed them before, because of their  height. The breeze that came along, made them dance a little.  A little group of daisies, colored  yellow and white, now looked so human, in the beginning of the night.

Then something else caught my eye, a little bird flying in the sky. All alone in the big sea of colors. His  Red breast struck me the most, it made him look so grand. So there I sat just staring at the robin for  a couple of minutes, wondering how such a small bird, could look so grand.

After staring at the bird for so long, I took the last hit and threw all that was left away. I now looked at the other side of the road. There they were, beautiful red ones, the ones my beloved used to love.

I looked at them. Their heads hung down. The condensation created little tears on their red faces. It  made them look like as if they were crying.  Then I saw the last person, fast walking home. All those people, I thought by myself, they are too  busy.  Never thinking about the real world, only the one we created ourselves.

by Anonymous

The World Is Too Much With Us (William Wordsworth)

The World Is Too Much With Us

By William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

_____________________________________________________

They throw plastic in nature like sunflowers spreading their beautiful seeds into the wide world. A wild world which is reduced by hypocrite creatures. They shape traffic jams in the busy places where this creatures used to live. Inefficiently moving, lay wasting our powers and gasses who fill lungs of little ones. The world is too much with them. They fear and hope it will be solved one day, but doing something for this rotten clod starts in their own hands. Risks are clear but they are honoured to play the game. Already lost in the very beginning when you creatures intend to be independent to nature. Ocean tides are affected by moon, winds starts to blow like up-gathering communities in my tribe. Rational thinking is included laws of nature. For this, for everything, we are out of balance.

O Aphrodite, mother of nature, stirring the right way is difficult for herd animals. Herd animals brainwashed by self-seeking leaders of this gruel world. I’d rather be a snowdrop, hope, spring forecast, peace. So might I, nailed to this rotten clod, have glimpses of resistance against a world warming up when winter said her last words. When the wind is howling through de communities of these ‘people’ and blowing away the blanket resting on the skyscrapers not letting any beam of the great fire inside. The blanket which is formed by these creatures in this traffic jams.

Having sight of Poseidon who is ascending from the sea. Or Aeolus who is wearer for the clouds. The world is too much with them. Them who are ruining this world and spike my precious leaves.

by Anonymous

Ozymandias (Percy Bysshe Shelley)

Ozymandias

by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said-“Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert….Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Work, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

_____________________________________________________

A letter from the sculptor of the monument from Ozymandias

Dear Cleo,

Hi, how are you? I miss you so much! I hope I am able to come home soon… But you know what kind of person Ozymandias is. Is everything ok with the baby? I will send you all the money I earn immediately.
You know I got another job at Ozymandias’ palace, right? Turns out: I have to sculpt a huge monument for him. This crazy project will take years to finish. To make it even more fun: it will be standing in the middle of the desert, in the middle of nowhere!
The only reason that he wants this monument to be made is that he wants to be remembered.
Till the end of time. Isn’t being the mightiest and most well-known king in this century not enough? How arrogant can you be?

He wants a statue of his whole body with, of course, a really ‘unselfish’ text on the pedestal:

“My name is Ozymandias, King of kings; Look on my Work, ye Mighty, and despair!”

But doesn’t he know no one can beat the test of Time? Everybody will eventually be forgotten! Even Ozymandias! You can be as rich, mighty, famous and powerful as you want, but over thousands and thousands of years, nobody will even ever have heard of his name. People will find this statue in the middle of the desert and, hopefully, see what an arrogant person he was.

Wow, now I am writing you, I got an idea! A really good idea, though I say so myself. Since I have the power of presenting Ozymandias any way I want… I will give his face the ice-cold expression he always has! Maybe even with his signature frown and a little sneer on his lips. Then they will understand what kind of personality Ozymandias had, don’t you think?

I’m sorry, Ozymandias demands me to start right now with the statue. The block of stone is ready to work with. My next letter will be longer, I promise!

I hope to be hearing from you soon!
Lots of love,

Marcus

by Anonymous

I Hid My Love (John Clare)

I Hid my Love

By John Clare

I hid my love when young till I
Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light:
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where’er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good-bye.

I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee’s song
She lay there all the summer long.

I hid my love in field and town
Till e’en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o’er,
The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar;
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.

_____________________________________________________

To my secret love,

I need to stop running back to you in my mind all the time, but I have never been able do that since I saw you for the first time, in the wild flower fields on that summer night. I tried to stop loving you, I really did, but those flies buzzing in the sky, waking me on those sleepless nights where only the beams of the sun could give me a sense of real life, just these simple things, you’re not easy to forget. How could I forget you with your eyes that could swallow stars, universes and galaxies. How am I supposed to hide my love? But all those times I actually did,  I was too shy to tell you how I felt, sometimes even  to scared to look upon your  lovely face, so instead I hid my love behind soft smiles and hopeful hellos. And with each wild flower that would grow, I would say to myself that I should let you go.

Do you actually remember the first time we actually talked without your crowd of friends? I reckon you don’t, because in my mind it was the foremost chapter of my story, yet for you just another page. You see, I didn’t fall in love with you once, but I fall in love with every single time you look at me. But even harder that summer morning, when the sun just started to rise, the dewdrops pearled the wood bluebells and the bees started to sing their hymn. And you asked, ‘how do I look?’ While combing nervously a hand through your golden hair. And I said, ‘the way the summer breeze kisses your bright blue eyes and how these morning sunbeams light up your hair and just the fact that you are so unknowing of your alluring appearance, makes you the most beautiful. But it only came out as ‘you look fine’.

And here I am now, writing this letter in the wild flower fields, not knowing that this spark inside my frozen body could turn into a burning fire. I never thought I would love you this much, and I never planned to have you in my mind this often. And all those twirling thoughts in my head, it makes me go mad. It’s like the breeze, – that once kissed your eyes – could knock me down. And the bees – that once sang a pleasing song –  could make me a deaf man blinded by love. This whole summer I’ve been wondering what you’d hear in the silence between us.

You were both everything I could ever want, and nothing I could ever have.

I really wish you all the happiness in the world, but if there’s any chance I could be that happiness, let me know.

Yours sincerely,

John

by Anonymous

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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.

_____________________________________________________

Dear Caitlyn, my sweetest love,

I have been meaning to tell you about this amazing experience I had.  A few days ago I decided to go for a walk. I walked through a forest and a field of corn, alongside a road and finally I went over the hills and through the valley near a lake, which was surrounded by another forest. That’s where I saw the most beautiful field of flowers, a field of golden daffodils, reflecting the sunlight. This field stretched forever in every direction. When I saw this I decided to stop and just lay down in the middle of those daffodils for a while and close my eyes. I listened to the breeze passing through the daffodils and it sounded like beautiful music, the music became louder and louder. Louder than the sounds of the singing birds and falling leaves, even louder than the small waves on the lake, rolling to shore. As I was listening I sunk into a very deep sleep. So deep that I thought I was in the Milky Way itself, looking at the billion stars shining so bright in there. I always imagine you being one of those and that I am a star right next to you. I miss you. I miss you so much. And there are times when I feel like I can’t live without you, that I want to be next to you back at our house in London. But whenever I feel like this when I’m in the sofa watching the open fire, I think of those golden daffodils. They remind me of you and how beautiful you can sing and dance. I did not realize that these flowers would bring me so much comfort when I’m feeling alone and yet they do bring me comfort when I miss you. They make me happy and put I smile on my face even though I feel lonely without you. And when I come back I will stay with you forever and I will take you to see those daffodils, near the hills and valley, near the forest and the lake. I’ll take you to see them, because want you to enjoy them just as much as I do. My dearest Caitlyn: I love you so much.

Yours Sincerely,

Edward

by Anonymous

 

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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.

_____________________________________________________

Dear diary,

Today was the craziest day of my life. My wife is just separated from me and I have just lost my job. They said I am too old. But that isn’t the reason. I though all things goes wrong. Why happens this to me and why not another person. But fifteen minutes ago dear diary I realized why this things happen to me. I was getting worse for a long time. My wife was just busy with earing money and more money and more. But she was not the only person who was thinking about money also in the rest of the society. Everyone is get into money. I was not different from the rest of the people. What I understand that we forget to enjoy of your life and we are never satisfied. And now I have lost everything I understand what I had. I should be the happiest person of the life. I had everything what I want. I had a wife a nice job and a beautiful house with a garden, but I wasn’t happy. I was realizing what I had when I was walking through the nature. I came totally to rust. I saw the daffodils in nature and I enjoyed thekm. I was walking through trees. There was a lake beside me. The water was calm and there were no waves. I couldn’t hear anything, except the birds who are chirping. What I felt was so long time ago! The beauty of the nature was amazing and everyone should one time a week walk into the nature. We have to protect our nature and be careful with it. I am now happy and I feel me a new person. So dear diary remember to enjoy of the life and enjoy of the nature.

by Anonymous

The Dying Child (John Clare)

The Dying Child

by John Clare

He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well.
His little hands, when flowers were seen,
Were held for the bluebell,
As he was carried o’er the green.

His eye glanced at the white-nosed bee;
He knew those children of the spring:
When he was well and on the lea
He held one in his hands to sing,
Which filled his heart with glee.

Infants, the children of the spring!
How can an infant die
When butterflies are on the wing,
Green grass, and such a sky?
How can they die at spring?

He held his hands for daisies white,
And then for violets blue,
And took them all to bed at night
That in the green fields grew,
As childhood’s sweet delight.

And then he shut his little eyes,
And flowers would notice not;
Birds’ nests and eggs caused no surprise,
He now no blossoms got;
They met with plaintive sighs.

When winter came and blasts did sigh,
And bare were plain and tree,
As he for ease in bed did lie
His soul seemed with the free,
He died so quietly.

_____________________________________________________

 

My young little boy; he was only four, when he first got ill. It was a beautiful day last May, last spring. Wherever he would go, he was surrounded by trees that were just growing their first blossoms, and beautiful flowers – his favourites being the bluebells that grew in the field just behind our house – which he would try to grasp as he was carried through the field.

In his last months, when he had his good days, and we were out on the paddock, he would love to see the bees up in the sky, and he would hold one in his hands and sing a song, that cheered him up immediately. It melted my heart to see that the joy of spring was of such great importance to him.

These little children, meant to be enjoying their youthful time in spring, how could they possibly die, when the butterflies flutter all around, when the grass is green and the sky is blue as never seen before? How could they die during spring?

My little son would pick the flowers that grew in the fields, every single year. He picked the white daisies, and the blue violets, and took them all up to his room. Such little things can mean so much, it’s the joy that childhood brings.

And then he closed his little eyes, yet everything outside stayed the same. The flowers kept dancing in the wind, and the birds still quietly sat in their nests, watching over their eggs, while my son was missing the spirit of life.

But when winter came, it was cold outside – the flowers were dead, the trees without blossom – and he peacefully lay in his bed. And when he last glanced up to me, his eyes seemed to say “I’m free to go with the spirit of spring” and so he let out his very last breath.

by Anonymous

The World Is Too Much With Us (William Wordsworth)

The World Is Too Much With Us

By William Wordsworth

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;—
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

_____________________________________________________

Everybody in the world is only consuming and consuming, not caring whether they are destroying the earth. Negligent if the world is going to end because of them.

The mind-set of the people nowadays is also not about giving but all about taking. Taking, taking and more taking, everybody only thinks about themselves and that ruins the earth.

The majority off the people these presently lives in the city, with all the busy noises, busses and cars. People running to their work and they forget all about the natural world. The natural world is too much for humans these days. They can only live the life of the city.

We only drift away from our nature. We give our hearts away, that is great. In matter of fact, it is not. It is such a shame that we get more and more further away from the purest being of ourselves, our nature.

We do not care about the world around us, all of the influence of nature does not bother us anymore. The beauty of the see, the sharp wind, the leaves that fall of the tree when the autumn is coming and the captivating thunder and rain.

Despite all of the beauty of nature, we still are out of tune. We still do not want to interfere with nature.

It does not matter how beautiful the world is, the city is too busy and the people do not care. It moves us not. I would rather be a dork, a douche, a bastard, the worst of all the people in the whole wide world, but only if I do care about the beautiful nature. That is the only thing that matters to me.

Standing here in a meadow looking at the sea I see the beauty of everything the nature gives us and maybe if I were a dork I would appreciate it more.

I am looking at the see hoping for a glimpse of maybe Proteus or Triton, masters of the sea. The purest and most beautiful form of nature. I can only dream of it.

by Anonymous

Robin Hood (John Keats)

Robin Hood

By John Keats

TO A FRIEND

No! those days are gone away
And their hours are old and gray,
And their minutes buried all
Under the down-trodden pall
Of the leaves of many years:
Many times have winter’s shears,
Frozen North, and chilling East,
Sounded tempests to the feast
Of the forest’s whispering fleeces,
Since men knew nor rent nor leases.

No, the bugle sounds no more,
And the twanging bow no more;
Silent is the ivory shrill
Past the heath and up the hill;
There is no mid-forest laugh,
Where lone Echo gives the half
To some wight, amaz’d to hear
Jesting, deep in forest drear.

On the fairest time of June
You may go, with sun or moon,
Or the seven stars to light you,
Or the polar ray to right you;
But you never may behold
Little John, or Robin bold;
Never one, of all the clan,
Thrumming on an empty can
Some old hunting ditty, while
He doth his green way beguile
To fair hostess Merriment,
Down beside the pasture Trent;
For he left the merry tale
Messenger for spicy ale.

Gone, the merry morris din;
Gone, the song of Gamelyn;
Gone, the tough-belted outlaw
Idling in the “grenè shawe”;
All are gone away and past!
And if Robin should be cast
Sudden from his turfed grave,
And if Marian should have
Once again her forest days,
She would weep, and he would craze:
He would swear, for all his oaks,
Fall’n beneath the dockyard strokes,
Have rotted on the briny seas;
She would weep that her wild bees
Sang not to her—strange! that honey
Can’t be got without hard money!

So it is: yet let us sing,
Honour to the old bow-string!
Honour to the bugle-horn!
Honour to the woods unshorn!
Honour to the Lincoln green!
Honour to the archer keen!
Honour to tight little John,
And the horse he rode upon!
Honour to bold Robin Hood,
Sleeping in the underwood!
Honour to maid Marian,
And to all the Sherwood-clan!
Though their days have hurried by
Let us two a burden try.

_____________________________________________________

Speech for any socialist party

The good glorious old days where people were equal, equal in rights and equal in money.
The good glorious old days have been buried like our own most frightened secrets.
The good glorious old days had cold winters like nowadays, and sunny Sundays like today.

Yet no, the upper classes have been stepping up their games and taken money on their behalf.

Not only the upper classes in where we are now, but the upper classes in all directions: our people are in danger. The time seems not to be ours anymore, which is utterly unreasonable, the time should be everyone’s,  at any moment, and everywhere, not just the wolfs of Wallstreet’s time

Even in the times where the brightest of lights is, we don’t get what we deserve, we don’t get what we need. As I said before, this is not just for you, but for every human kind that has the right to live a good life. With all modern technology, why don’t we finally start to think normal/modern and give people equality. We get to see all beautiful things in life that we can afford, though we never get to see a Robin Hood nowadays, even when it’s urgent.. Never will we be able to see Robin Hood, or any of his comrades again. Never and nowhere: not in this country, not in this continent and not on this globe. Not a bloody chance!

Gone, all good glorious old days are gone, where we (workers) had our rights and money.
Gone, all things people like Karl Marx, Saint-Simon and Friedrich Engels fought for: equality.
Gone, like the fighting spirit we used to have, the spirit to succeed in what we want to achieve.

Robin Hood should be brought back to life again, so the oppressors and capitalists would be stunned and held back. We should not cry and watch the situation getting worse and worse. We should stand up for what we stood up for, even though it seems like we started to sit down. When Robin Hood isn’t here, you and I can be Robin Hood, you and I can be the change everyone needs. Let us give the people what they really need, let us stand up as humans!

by Abel Pleij

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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.

_____________________________________________________

Dear diary,

I woke up early in the morning and had no idea what to do, so I decided to go for a walk because I couldn’t stay at home and do nothing. “Some fresh air would satisfy me.” That’s what I thought and left my house.

I was wandering lonely, without any purpose, through the beautiful nature. As lonely as a cloud that is excluded from the rest of the world. Thinking about the meaning of life. The thoughts in my head were as excluded from the world as a cloud. I continued wandering over hills and valleys. Suddenly I saw a group of flowers. I couldn’t stop gazing at them, because they were gleaming. The gold color of the flowers were controlling my eyes. I think these flowers are more than special. They’re called daffodils. I had never seen such flowers before beside the lake and beneath the trees. The wind let them dance, just like humans do. The upper parts of the flowers were moving slowly from the left to the right. The flowers, the daffodils, were as continuous as the stars. They couldn’t stop gleaming and there were so many of them. They stretched in a never-ending line and I guess there were thousands of them. Not only the flowers were beautiful on their own, but the waves of the lake next the flowers were flowing differently compared to a normal lake. It looked like the lake was dancing with the flowers. But no matter what, nothing could beat the beauty of the flowers.

When I had come home, I decided to lie on the couch. My mind was empty and I didn’t feel good. I had no idea what to do. But then, I remembered the daffodils and an image of them flashed through my mind. Immediately I felt better and the loneliness of my mind was kicked out. The image of the daffodils was as real as the reality and I imagined myself dancing, just like the flowers and the waves of the lake.

by Anonymous

 

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (William Wordsworth)

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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.

_____________________________________________________

I was walking lonely, but had no connection with the rest of world. It was as if I was locked out by everybody else. At that moment I saw a field, but it wasn’t just a field, it was a smooth field made of flowers. And not just flowers, but daffodils, and every one of them was shining like a little sun. They were next to the sparkling lake, and under the moving tree. They were all in balance and harmony, swinging in the light spring breeze.

They looked like they were never ending, as the stars in the milky way. It felt like the time stood still, during the perfect sunset under an infinite coastline. There were so much, they were uncountable, there were at least ten thousand of them just on the hill next to the lake. Al of them were wobbling together with the leaves of the tree, as if it was a perfect orchestrated whole.

The field surrounds a lake, which laid there glittering and wrinkled in the sun. The free and fluttering flowers pulled at me, and held me in their grip. The lake on the other hand looked like it was poisoned and has had its time, next to the beautiful daffodils. Although I enjoyed the moment to the fullest, I wasn’t aware how great it was, and that such a moment is all you need in life.

That night, when I lied in my bed, I was wondering and thinking about the day and the freedom of the daffodils. They were forever in my memory captured. This remembrance fills me with such joy, that I never wanted something else. This feeling is all I want in life. This feeling like I am dancing with the daffodils.

by Anonymous