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;

5 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
10 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:
15 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
20 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.

THE AFFLICTION OF MARGARET
1804
1807

Where art thou, my beloved son,
Where art thou, worse to me than dead?
Oh find me, prosperous or undone!
Or, if the grave be now thy bed,

5 Why am I ignorant of the same
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?

Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only child;

10 To have despaired, have hoped, believed,
And been for evermore beguiled;
Sometimes with thoughts of very bliss!
I catch at them, and then I miss;
Was ever darkness like to this?

15 He was among the prime in worth,
An object beauteous to behold;
Well born, well bred; I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:
If things ensued that wanted grace,
20 As hath been said, they were not base;
And never blush was on my face.

Ah! little doth the young one dream, When full of play and childish cares, What power is in his wildest scream, 25 Heard by his mother unawares!

He knows it not, he cannot guess;
Years to a mother bring distress;
But do not make her love the less.

Neglect me! no, I suffered long

30 From that ill thought; and, being blind, Said, "Pride shall help me in my wrong: Kind mother have I been, as kind As ever breathed:" and that is true; I've wet my path with tears like dew, 35 Weeping for him when no one knew.

My son, if thou be humbled, poor,
Hopeless of honor and of gain,
Oh! do not dread thy mother's door;
Think not of me with grief and pain:
40 I now can see with better eyes;

And worldly grandeur I despise,
And fortune with her gifts and lies.

Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings, And blasts of heaven will aid their flight; 45 They mount-how short a voyage brings The wanderers back to their delight! Chains tie us down by land and sea; And wishes, vain as mine, may be All that is left to comfort thee.

50 Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan,
Maimed, mangled by inhuman men;
Or thou upon a desert thrown
Inheritest the lion's den;

Or hast been summoned to the deep, 55 Thou, thou and all thy mates, to keep An incommunicable sleep.

I look for ghosts; but none will force Their way to me: 'tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse 60 Between the living and the dead; For, surely, then I should have sight Of him I wait for day and night, With love and longings infinite.

My apprehensions come in crowds; 65 I dread the rustling of the grass; The very shadows of the clouds

Have power to shake me as they pass: I question things and do not find. One that will answer to my mind; 70 And all the world appears unkind.

Beyond participation lie

My troubles, and beyond relief: If any chance to heave a sigh,

25 I, loving freedom, and untried;
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide,
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
And oft, when in my heart was heard

30 Thy timely mandate, I deferred

The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.

Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, 35 I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires : My hopes no more must change their name, 40 I long for a repose that ever is the same,

Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear The Godhead's most benignant grace; Nor know we anything so fair

ELEGIAC STANZAS

SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT 1805 1807

I was thy neighbor once, thou rugged Pile! Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:

I saw thee every day; and all the while Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.

5 So pure the sky, so quiet was the air! So like, so very like, was day to day! Whene'er I looked, thy Image still was there;

It trembled, but it never passed away.

298

mend;

This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.

45 O'tis a passionate Work!-yet wise and well,

Well chosen is the spirit that is here;

That Hulk which labors in the deadly swell,
This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!

And this huge Castle, standing here sub-
lime,

50 I love to see the look with which it braves. Cased in the unfeeling armor of old time, The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.

Farewell, farewell the heart that lives
alone,

Housed in a dream, at distance from the
Kind!2

55 Such happiness, wherever it be known,
Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.

But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
And frequent sights of what is to be borne!
Such sights, or worse, as are before me
here.-

60 Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.

Who is the happy warrior? Who is he That every man in arms should wish to be? -It is the generous Spirit, who, when brought

Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought

5 Upon the plan that pleased his boyish thought:

Whose high endeavors are an inward light That makes the path before him always bright:

Who, with a natural instinct to discern What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn;

10 Abides by this resolve, and stops not there, But makes his moral being his prime care; Who, doomed to go in company with Pain, And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train! Turns his necessity to glorious gain; 15 In face of these doth exercise a power Which is our human nature's highest

pure,

As tempted more; more able to endure, 25 As more exposed to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.

- 'Tis he whose law is reason; who depends
Upon that law as on the best of friends;
Whence, in a state where men are tempted
still

30 To evil for a guard against worse ill,
And what in quality or act is best
Doth seldom on a right foundation rest,
He labors good on good to fix, and owes
To virtue every triumph that he knows: