I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

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.

To Go By Singing

by Wendell Berry

He comes along the street, singing,

a rag of a man, with his game foot and bum's clothes.

He's asking for nothing--his hands

aren't even help out. His song

is the gift of singing, to him

and to all who will listen.

To hear him, you'd think the engines

would all stop, and the flower vendor would stand

with her hands full of flowers and not move.

You'd think somebody would have hired him

and provided him a clean quiet stage to sing on.

But there's no special occasion or place

for his singing--that's why it needs

to be strong. His song doesn't impede the morning

or change it, except by freely adding itself.