Daffodils

I was looking back through some notes I have posted on facebook over the years, and I wanted to share a poem with you.  I first moved out here 8 years ago at the end of this month.  It was a particularly warm winter, and I remember loving the view of Mount Rainier as I drove, that peak of majesty waiting just around the bend. It makes me smile and praise God every time I see "my mountain".  :)  Near our church, there used to be a beautiful field of daffodils that would bloom each spring.  I was fascinated and captivated by it. We used to park near it and walk to church to teach our class of eager kindergarten kids on Sunday mornings.  On one particular spring morning, 8 years ago, we took this photo. I am so thankful for it.  If you look closely, you can see Mt. Rainier in the background. I know we are still in the middle of winter, but don't we all need a glimpse of spring to get us through the icy chill of winter? 

This poem by William Wordsworth is my tribute to wonderful, rich literature and I am inspired to include it here by my love for daffodils. If only you were here and could see the vast beauty of God's creation. I feel connected to this far-gone poet by the appreciation of God's glory we share. 

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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 daffodil;

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 to me the show 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.

William Wordsworth