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 in 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.
For oft when on the 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
I love poetry. That being said, I really like this poem. Ever since the first time I remember reading it my heart has been captured by the beauty of it, the imagery, the fact that I have a bond with the author for having shared this experience with him.
Think about it.
You aimlessly wander about when all of a sudden your eye is captured by this gorgeous sight, in this case flowers, daffodils, everywhere. Thousands upon thousands of daffodils. It would be like coming upon a continuous fields and meadows of wildflowers, except they are daffodils. Over ten thousand daffodils along the bay and under the trees, dancing in the wind. This is not a sight you will quickly forget. When you are all alone once again, even after much time has passed, you will still remember that glorious sight. If you are feeling down, it lifts you up, if you are happy, your day just got better. It truly is an amazing thought, and a glorious memory. I pray that as you wander about one day, you too will come upon a sight that captures your attention. A view that will bring you pleasure as you reminisce on the view, and on the grandeur of God.
Well, I was going to stop there. However, as I mentioned the grandeur of God another poem was brought to my mind, this one by Gerald Manley Hopkins.
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck* his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black west went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs --
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.*obey
Take a moment and think about this poem.
The grandeur of God is everywhere. The grandeur of God will flame out, like when you take aluminum foil out into the sun light and shake it - it goes everywhere, and it is terribly bright. The grandeur of God gathers to a greatness like olive oil when it is crushed. You make step on it, but it just spreads the oil (God grandeur) out even further. You cannot stop it.
Before I continue go and read this poem aloud. Listen to the devices Hopkins uses.
"Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;"
That isn't very pleasant sounding. Generations have been walking all over the grandeur of God.
"All is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, not can foot fell, being sod."
He's describing the results of sin entering the world.
But even for the sin and the use of resources nature is not going to die. It has a replenishing source deep down. And even when the sun has set it will rise again. God, the Holy Spirit, is watching over the world, and cares for it, for us. And oh! he is glorious.
Praise God forever and ever!
Praise God from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him all creatures here below. Praise Him above all ye heavenly host. Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Vaya con Dios, and be blessed.
