07 April 2008

Yes, it's that time of the year again and so

Wordsworth comes to mind:

I WANDER'D 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 stretch'd 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 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.

9 comments:

Julianne said...

Thanks for posting this poem!

WM Cwirla said...

Sheesh! I tune in to Weedon's blog to get some patristic theology or some late-breaking synodical atrocity, and what do I get? Poetry.

You'd think I just tuned in to Tissues, Etc.

Anastasia Theodoridis said...

I love this, every year. And am looking forward, in a couple of months, to, "What is so rare as a day in June?"

Unless I beat you to it!

Anonymous said...

One can literally scan 200 hundred lines of Wordsworth fruitlessly, and then suddenly there appears on the page--like nuggests of gold on the ground--a line or two and an insight that makes the time you spent trudging through his poetry all worthwhile. See "Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind" for example.

Rev. Charles Lehmann said...

Disgusting, isn't it, Fr. Cwirla.

Years ago Detlev Schulz caught Weedon smelling flowers at CSL and accused him of being a romantic.

If the shoe fits...

William Weedon said...

Julianne,

You're very welcome.

Pastor Cwirla,

You can't fool me; I know you're a romantic at heart.

Anastasia,

We can imagine our moms reciting it together!

Philip,

Yup - he's rather like LUTHER! :)

Charlie,

The sad thing was that Schultz didn't join me in enjoying the sweet smell of the hyacinths - surely the smell of heaven itself on earth.

Doorman-Priest said...

You're just an old romantic at heart.

Anonymous said...

Hey, I was mulling over this little "ditty" just this morning, and then my thoughts turned to large red IH tractors, diesel fuel, field cultivators, anhydrous ammonia, and the smell of real dirt ... it's plant'in time, Bill ... watch out daffodils!

signed - your "lebanese Philistine"

William Weedon said...

Doorman,

You are quite right; I freely admit it.

Lebanese Philistine,

My poor nose already is crinkling under the assault of the ammonia. ICK!!!! Springtime in the country? I know you all say it's the smell of money; well I say that money STINKS. Give me my daffodils and hyacinths anyday! :)