Sunday, November 25, 2012


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.

William Wordsworth 

1 comment:

  1. Very nice. Where would we be without poetry? Nothing else ties a bow on the essense of an impression so perfectly, so satisfacorily.



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