Monday, March 07, 2016


Commenting on yesterday's post, Miss Scarlet said, "I have some freshly cut daffs from the garden, and now I have somewhere to stick them."

Thank you for brightening the Reading Room, Miss Scarlet.

Daffodils 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.


  1. The "lost" verse talks about a fat man with a tiny penis, but Dorothy edited that bit out. Jx

  2. I'm so pleased my delivery boy is taking a rest and reading poetry, BUT he must return sharply as I have several important manuscripts; a toaster; a box of bunting, and a pair of roller skates, to be dispatched around the world pronto!

  3. Replies
    1. Ms Scarlet's delivery boy obviously didn't heed those facts, as the daffs' poisonous sap has caused the other thing to wizen up and die.

      The thing in the vase. Not the other thing. Although, that may also be true...

  4. someone wants his pentameter yanked.

  5. When my beloved - and I don't toss that word around much, so you know I mean it - brother in law died unexpectedly at the age of 50 nineteen years ago (has it been that long, seems like yesterday), my in laws dealt with their grief by paying tribute to him in Wellesley (where they lived and where he grew up) by donating 1,000 daffodil bulbs to the town that were planted in Beebe Meadow. Each spring they would place copies of this poem in a stand along the walking path so that people would understand the flowers as a tribute. You see, Wordsworth wrote this poem in memory of his child who had loved the flower and had died too young. What a lovely memorial.

    1. Wordsworth wrote it in 1802, a year before his first child was born. It's actually about a walk he took with his sister Dorothy. Jx

    2. If wikipedia is to trust (and I'm not too drunk) his sister made notices about a walk in her diary. Later the poet used her "scriblings", even her words.

      Strange thing about these sisters. Think of sister Nietzsche, or Fanny Mendelssohn - Felix may have used stuff from her, too.
      And think of Rivana, Silvana's stronger sister ...

  6. I don't think the gentleman's mind is on daffodils, golden or otherwise but on teeth

  7. His imitation of a droopy daffodil is quite good. I'm not sure his imitation of a horny sheep on the windowsill could be better.