I wandered lonely as as 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.
I don’t normally read poetry. That wasn’t always the case. In first grade I found a book of poems in the school library that fascinated me. In high school, dissecting poetry dampened any enthusiasm.
There are a few poems I love. High Flight by John Gillespie Magee, Jr.; The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow; The White Cliffs by Alice Duer Miller; I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.
I’ve loved daffodils as long as I can remember. When my Brownie Girl Scout troop graduated to Junior Girl Scouts, we needed an emblem, and I pushed hard for the daffodil, and succeeded.
The sunny daffodil’s trumpet is one of the first blooms to grace the Spring. Native to the Mediterranean area, and grown by the Greeks and the Romans, daffodils fell from favor and were forgotten until about 1629. A group of Englishmen rescued the daffodil from the weeds and put it back in the garden. As America settled and spread west, daffodils were “must have” in the garden. They even have their own American Daffodil Society.
Who can resist such a spritely flower? The memory of daffodils dancing in the breeze, outshining the sparkling lake beside them, brought poet William Wordsworth out of a pensive mood. He couldn’t help but be happy and laugh again.
What’s your favorite flower?