Your Sunday Poem

This is an old one by William Wordsworth, but worth a repeat on a beautiful spring morning. 

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
    Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not be but gay
    In such a jocund company;
I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to be 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.