William Wordsworth

Dedicado a John Lavery

William Wordsworth

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 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.

Muchas gracias John por compartir conversaciones y lecturas de jardinería en la Escuela de Jardinería del Laberint d’Horta. Y también por regalarme la historia de tu antepasado pintor de reconicido prestigio, John Lavery!

Sir John Lavery [Irish painter, 1856-1941]

To the daisy

With little here to do or see
Of things that in the great world be,
Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee,
⁠For thou art worthy,
Thou unassuming Common-place
Of Nature, with that homely face,
And yet with something of a grace,
⁠Which Love makes for thee!

Oft do I sit by thee at ease,
And weave a web of similies,
Loose types of Things through all degrees,
⁠Thoughts of thy raising:
And many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame,
As is the humour of the game,
⁠While I am gazing.
A Nun demure, of lowly port;
Or sprightly Maiden, of Love’s Court,
In thy simplicity the sport
⁠Of all temptations;
A Queen in crown of rubies drest;
A Starveling in a scanty vest;
Are all, as seem to suit thee best,
⁠Thy appellations.

A little Cyclops, with one eye
Staring to threaten and defy,
That thought comes next—and instantly
⁠The freak is over,
The shape will vanish, and behold!
A silver Shield with boss of gold,
That spreads itself, some Faery bold
⁠In fight to cover.

I see thee glittering from afar;—
And then thou art a pretty Star;
Not quite so fair as many are
⁠In heaven above thee!
Yet like a star, with glittering crest,
Self-poised in air thou seem’st to rest;—
May peace come never to his nest,
⁠Who shall reprove thee!

Sweet Flower! for by that name at last,
When all my reveries are past,
I call thee, and to that cleave fast,
⁠Sweet silent Creature!
That breath’st with me in sun and air,
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
My heart with gladness, and a share
⁠Of thy meek nature!