Spring Poetry | Daffodils | Lines Written in Early Spring | William Wordsworth | And more …


Daffodils (I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud) by
William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850) Read by Cecilia Elise Wallin 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. Lines Written in Early Spring
By William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850) Read by Cecilia Elise Wallin
Collection: Relaxing Quotes I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man. Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:— But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there. If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan, Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man? How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
BY ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING Read by Cecilia Elise Wallin How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the
breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God
choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

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