I wandered lonely as a cloud
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.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Related quotes
Daffodils
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.
poem by William Wordsworth
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Western Moon and Eastern Sun!
Stare I at the stars,
Stairs I find in my heart,
I look at wonder at sky,
Why can't I find a new and try!
The Moon of West is romantic,
wander in the garden of many rosy stars,
Sun of East rose and brightened the sky and faded away both moon and stars
Large and black sky,
Now looked blue and small!
My mind sang with Tolkien,
"Still round the corner there
may wait
A new road or a secret gate
And though I oft have passed
them by
A day will come at last when I Shall take the hidden paths that
run
West of the Moon, East of the
Sun."
Than with Pablo Neruda,
"I crave your mouth, your voice,
your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl
through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me,
dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of
your steps.
I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage
harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a
whole almond.
I want to eat the sunbeam
flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade
of your lashes,
and I pace around hungry,
sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
Like a puma in the barrens of
Quitratue."
Dreamed with silverstien,
"If you are a dreamer come in
If you are a dreamer a wisher a
liar
A hoper a pray-er a magic-bean-
buyer
If youre a pretender com sit by my fire
For we have some flax golden
tales to spin
Come in!
Come in! '
Then with the 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, The 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 but be gay, In such a jocund company; I gazed - and gazed - but little thought What wealth to me the show 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.'
Then with Rumi,
' Don't look at your form, however ugly or beautiful. Look at love and at the aim of your quest.... O you whose lips are parched, keep looking for water. Those parched lips are proof that eventually you will reach the source.'
Finally with Shankaracharya
' universe is the dance of infinite,
BRAHMAN is the Truth and not the Universe,
But universe is nothing but BRAHMAN,
And you art that Truth! '
And my wandering mind died and I am one with him!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Shaft o'Thrills - Parody William Wordsworth - Daffodils
She wandered lonely in a crowd
that fills the Internet for thrills,
when all at once she thought aloud,
hosts surfing, toasting golden pills,
beside the screen, beyond base tease,
revamping her priorities.
Continuous as the stars that shine
and twinkle over life today
she sought a never-ending line
to set example, quoted play:
Ten thousand thinklings at a glance
were tossed while head sought elegance.
The waves within met some which stray
by chance or fate, late sparkling glee:
a poet could not but be gay,
acknowledging eternity.
She gazed, she gazed, but little thought
untaught taut flow's show glow had brought:
Once, often on her couch she’d lie
in vacant or in pensive mood.
Wish flashed, dot dashing inward eye
to compensate her solitude.
Henceforth her heart with pleasure fills,
advancing with her writing skills.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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I found your foot print on the sand
I found your foot print on the sand
By the host of roses, on a grassy bank
Of eye sapphire bay, on whose watery face
Our world is reflected in reverse circled by tree’s lace
I was sitting beneath clumps of sturdy old trees
Adoring the fluttering dancing breeze
When suddenly this view of delight
Had gleamed upon my sight
Such a lovely ornament on the womb of earth
Was just recently give birth
Which a cloud that floats on vaults of heights
Never in its long wandering has spot in sight
Calm and hash, there was no peril from the sky that day
Except the summer sun's haze scorching ray
The birds were playing on this spot of land
The dodged in the grass or bathed in the land
The birds around it whirled and galloped
On a sprightly dance of glee and hope
The air blinked with pinions of mirth
And so in a hurry followed the smooth green turf
Touched by the thrill of pleasure the jocund band
Encircled the air and rolled on land
In a long, never ending line
As stars in the milky-way that twinkle and shine
Sparkled the strips of glittering butterflies
Outlining their rainbow colors in the skies
Their wings flared the air and glared the sun without a din
In a dazzling riot of soundless scene
All creatures adored in owe your sand trace
Except one who would not embrace
The little Narcissus with jealousy his head shock
Craving helplessly its image in the rushing brook
Heedless, no notice it took
But the other way it turned its look
copy rights 2010
An Irreverent Poem about 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 -
I was feeling rather pleased with myself
And my poetic skills,
When suddenly I got a fright -
I'd forgotten to take my pills!
The pills enable me to write
And rhyme and scan as well,
Some people say it is just sh*te
Exclaiming 'Go to hell! '
I write about flowers and beggars and sheep
And lots of soppy things,
Young women read my verse and weep
While angels flap their wings.
My name is Wordsworth (call me Bill)
And modern students find me a bore,
But I'll go on bleating forever until
They boot me out and lock the door! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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The Last to Leave
The guns were silent, and the silent hills
had bowed their grasses to a gentle breeze
I gazed upon the vales and on the rills,
And whispered, "What of these?' and "What of these?
These long forgotten dead with sunken graves,
Some crossless, with unwritten memories
Their only mourners are the moaning waves,
Their only minstrels are the singing trees
And thus I mused and sorrowed wistfully
I watched the place where they had scaled the height,
The height whereon they bled so bitterly
Throughout each day and through each blistered night
I sat there long, and listened - all things listened too
I heard the epics of a thousand trees,
A thousand waves I heard; and then I knew
The waves were very old, the trees were wise:
The dead would be remembered evermore-
The valiant dead that gazed upon the skies,
And slept in great battalions by the shore.
poem by Leon Gellert
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Parody Of Daffodils
A parody of daffodils
I wander'd lonely as a shark,
That roams the ocean deep and wide,
When all at once I saw a shoal,
Of little fishes trying to hide,
Around the rocks, beneath the reef,
Quivering with fear as they saw my teeth.
Continuous as the stars that shine,
Reflecting on the ocean’s swell,
They darted from their hiding place,
I rushed amongst them, jaws like hell,
And sent them to their watery graves,
Whilst above me rolled the waves.
poem by Lucy Arron
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Daffodils
Ho! You there, selling daffodils along the windy street,
Poor drooping, dusty daffodils - but oh! so Summer sweet!
Green stems that stab with loveliness, rich petal-cups to hold
The wine of Spring to lips that cling like bees about their gold!
What price to you for daffodils? I'll give what price you please,
For light and love and memory lie leaf by leaf with these!
And if I bought all Sydney Town I could not hope to buy
The wealth you bring of everything that goes with open sky!
My money for your daffodils: why do you thank me so?
If I have paid a reckless price, take up my gift and go,
And from the golden garden beds where gold the sunbeams shine
Bring in more flowers to light the hours for lover-hearts like mine!
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Solitude Of The Waves
SOLITUDE OF THE WAVES
Melvin Banggollay
As the tide of the ocean rises high
to kiss the lovely breast of the shore,
flocks of birds keeps on flying high
over the blue ocean's widest floor,
the winter breeze shares its delight
of coldness I can't long endure
while i'm in solitude of solemn sigh
reflecting deeply if I can still endure
memories written with every tides
of a love once build upon this shore.
The shore was filled with serenity
as the moonlight radiance glow,
When I heard her whisper softly
in my ears promises I never knew
have only faithless spirit and beauty
of a love and romance she bestow
that filled my heart with so much glee
that even the waves dances with joy
with the happiness that bewildered me
on that one lucky night upon this shore.
but now as I walk alone this beach
The waves seems come to me to fade
with lonely smile as they try to reach
and take back the footprints I laid
upon the shore once been the seat
of a love now only in memory be made
as teardrops in my eyes start to heat
and melt down again for a decade
of pain and agony as memory unseat
and keep on coming back like waves.
poem by Melvin Banggollay
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The Difference in Daffodils......
I step out... Between man made Amber street lamps
And natures midnight blue, still life.... crisp, dampness
Not a soul to hamper, mood nor thought.
Moments before witching hour... Solitude
Strokes
My bitter twisted mind plus soul...
Walking
Waltzing internally through thoughts fields
And daffodils
Barely a murmur
They shiver softly (as I do)
In a
Cool
Crisp....
Mad march air
Cream
Eerie...
Negative heads bowed, both they and I
Are as night time hoodies, shrouded within
Noir prison bar petals
We are akin. The nightime daffodils and I
Skulking in the shadows unnoticed by all that pass
We like it that way... The only difference between I and them
Tomorrow....
They shine outside, tempt bees and eyes
Then smile in the glory
Of day...
poem by Karen Sinclair
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Introductory Verses
Oh, you who read some song that I have sung –
What know you of the soul from whence it sprung?
Dost dream the poet ever speaks aloud
His secret thought unto the listening crowd?
Go take the murmuring sea-shell from the shore-
You have its shape, its colour – and no more.
It tells not one of those vast mysteries
That lie beneath the surface of the seas.
Our songs are shells, cast out by waves of thought;
Here, take them at your pleasure; but think not
You’ve seen the beneath the surface of the waves,
Where lie our shipwrecks, and our coral caves.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Dance Dance…
Dance dance to the evening
In a dim golden flow
As the leaves sing
In their breezy breezy blow
Morning comes to live
Glowing waves of day
More than enough to give
Of its colors golden lay
Dreams that were of night
Are now all laying still
For the daylight bright
Those aspirations fulfill
Dance dance to the night
Fill the moods of song
In your dream starry flight
Those dreamy feelings long
The stars are out to shine
Within their golden glow
Thru space in horizon line
That the skies now show
Harmony of deep freedom
To the darkness remote
Colors of the ad-infinitum
Opening dawn’s fireboat
Dance dance to the evening
In a dim golden flow
As the leaves sing
In their breezy breezy blow
Morning comes to live
Glowing waves of day
More than enough to give
Of its colors golden lay
poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Dance
dance the river is there to rise
dance touch me and close your eyes
dance the winds will touch your feet
just dance and dance feel the beat
dance the river will find its mouth
dance east and west north and south
dance the river will find my lips
dance the poles to move my hips
dance the bees are dancing hives
dance the trees are swaying lives
dance the waves are breaking through
dance the sides for me and you
dance the birds are dancing flights
dance the stars are dancing nights
dance the currents dancing veins
dance in soils dancing grains
dance the last atom cutting a knot
just dance and dance until you cannot
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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I Hear Within Myself The Greater Lines Of Others
I HEAR WITHIN MYSELF THE GREATER LINES OF OTHERS
I hear within myself the greater lines of others-
I began to write ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud’
I thought ‘Continuous as the stars that shine and twinkle on the Milky Way’
I felt ‘When you are old and grey and full of sleep’
I thought again ‘Doth God exact day – labor light denied? ”
I felt in my soul ‘Ah love let us be true to one another For the world which lies before us like a land of dreams ‘
Inside me I heard ‘The world is filled with the grandeur of God’
Time after time I repeated ‘O cursed spite that ever I was born to set it right’-
All in me is poetry more than my own
‘Oh to be in England, now that April’s here’
'Oh wild west wind thou breath of autumn's being'
I do not know how to stop the lines -
More in me than myself is the Poetry of others
And where I begin must end a greater Beauty not my own-
Oh Poem Oh Poetry Oh Poets of the Past
Oh Light of the world greater than my own small light-
Oh singing in the wilderness a song not my own
Oh much more than I can ever be
Others’ Poetry.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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A Sunrise
With a streak of fire the sun wrote on
the water a name that is eternal,
the water guarded jealously a tone of colour
and song that mingled with the waves,
the waves danced gaily while shadows
trembled and sparks spangled
emitting light that was fire in the
drunken eyes of the morning birds
that chanted hymns of praise and love
in pre-Aryan lyric strains
and I gazed at all that is beautiful
in the sky, the hills and the plains.
poem by Padma Prasad Devkota
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U n i c o r n 1 5
Those to whom it has revealed itself
- grazing in a grove of trees,
a ray of morning sunlight
lighting the dewdrops on the mossy grass;
or galloping, white mane flying in the wind,
over the high green hills;
or briefly glimpsed, shining-eyed
between the white-spumed waves –
they bring back with them, the experience
which always will be theirs;
some place of inner peace
to which they may refer all the events
of life; so that, like some shaken bright kaleidoscope,
all falls into its place.
Some never speak of this; some see no reason not to speak;
and risk response: thus, some envious, as ‘why not me? ’
some, just curious; some, eager to hear all,
as if they always knew, or ‘thought they guessed’, that it exists…
Even spoken from the heart, words live a life that’s perilous:
some who are so fortunate as to catch it there
in that sacred grove of trees, and on whom
the unicorn bestows its glance, as eye to eye,
speak of a softness, of a sweetness; some
say, it looked into my inmost soul;
some simply fall in love with their true peaceful self;
some speak of being so at one with it,
that all the world is ever one: so that,
its glance bestowed on them, their every glance
henceforward, sees that unity in everything.
some speak of it; some hold it in
pure silence of the heart, and live it
in themselves, as if
they are its children in the world;
their glance, as sparkling eye meets sparkling eye,
will tell us all we need to know
that moment when we know
that there is something which we know, have ever known,
but knew not what it was until
- like some glimpse of the unicorn,
here, now, always; one glimpse, one glance,
and its work done -
we know we know
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Those That Merely Wait And Unmoved
walking, just walking, sometimes just this
no thoughts, no decisions, just plain walking
you see the light of the day
striking on the trees and plains and the daffodils
you are not part of it, you are just walking it
you are met by the wind from the mountain
you are not talking you are not interested about
what this wind these trees these daffodils are bringing you
you do not show any interest at all about some leaves falling
the light spreads and sprawls on the grass and sand and pebbles
you are not dazzled you are not completely covered by light
you are just walking, stepping into God's own creation
spectator, just plain walking in, not involved, not commenting
just plain watching, those that crawl and sprawl, those that stay and leave
those that simply lay themselves as plain receptors, grass and sang
mountains and trees, and daffodils, those that merely wait and unmoved.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jacques Cartier’s First Visit To Mount Royal
He stood on the wood-crowned summit
Of our mountain’s regal height,
And gazed on the scene before him,
By October’s golden light,
And his dark eyes, earnest, thoughtful,
Lit up with a softer ray
As they dwelt on the scene of beauty
That, outspread, before him lay.
Like a sea of liquid silver,
St. Lawrence, ’neath the sun,
Reflected the forest foliage
And the Indian wigwams dun,
Embracing the fairy islands
That its swift tide loving laves,
Reposing in tranquil beauty
Amid its sapphire waves.
To the eastward, frowning mountains
Rose in solemn grandeur still,
The glittering sunlight glinting
On steep and rugged hill;
Whilst in the far horizon,
Past leafy dell and haunt,
Like a line of misty purple,
Rose the dim hills of Vermont.
Then Cartier’s rapt gaze wandered
Where, starred with wild flowers sweet,
In its gorgeous autumn beauty,
Lay the forest at his feet.
With red and golden glory
All the foliage seemed ablaze
Yet with brightness strangely softened
By October’s amber haze.
Around him stretched the mountain
Ever lovely—ever young—
Graceful, softly undulating,
By tall forest trees o’erhung;
’Twas then his thought found utterance,
The words “Mont Royal” came,
And thus our Royal Mountain
Received its fitting name.
poem by Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
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Twinkle
(kinky friedman)
Oh, I didnt write this song for fortunes made of money,
I only came along just to sing it to you, honey.
Ive dreamed around the bend, Ive looked behind the sky,
Ive seen the rainbows end in the twinkle of an eye.
And until the day our stars all arise
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes.
In a window from afar it shines in just like a candle,
The shimmer like a star, its more than I can handle,
To hold you in the night, to show you what I told you,
To go down by candlelight, to light the world before you.
And until the day our stars all arise,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes.
And until the day our stars all arise,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes,
Twinkle, let me shine in your eyes,
Let me shine in your eyes.
song performed by by Kinky Friedman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sign Of Solitude
GN OF SOLITUDE
A lugubrious tree high above the lot,
Yearning for an embrace tight,
It is a sign of solitude.
From the leafy world of forest deep,
A fluttery leaf falls when ripe,
It is a sign of solitude.
A scarlet flower shakes its head
But the wind dooms a petal dead,
It `s a sign of solitude.
A flock of birds among the clouds,
Finding all a bliss to the eyes,
A hunter lurks below on earth,
Aims one down for a wholesome feast,
That is a sign of solitude.
Friendship, kinship and lover's bliss,
Frizzles to mud at death's one kiss.
Jocund jolly friendly men,
Shrinks to viscid pit alone.
So death is a sign of solitude.
Glorious sun who makes us gay,
Is a loner in the Milky Way?
So HE is a sign of solitude.
poem by Sheela Devi
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