A Tribute to Daffodils!

                                             

This beautiful classic poem  by William Wordsworth always comes to mind, this time of year. Hope you enjoy re-reading it too. Many years ago, I lived on a Daffodil Crescent. My mom loved daffodils. And I've been a daffodil lover for a long, long time too. Like sunflowers, their sunny "faces" always seem so happy!
                                               

Wishing you a happy, sunny day!

                       

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.

               

***

Photo courtesy of Flickr

To Truly Love...

Take some time today to think about all the people, places and things that you truly love.

One of the best ways to put life into perspective, especially on those days when things aren't going as well as you'd like them to be.


Love!


It changes everything. Transforms people. Makes all things possible.

Share some love today. Send a good thought out to someone who is going through a difficult time. Smile at someone on the street who looks sad. Share a hug. Give someone a compliment. Bring an unexpected gift to a friend. You never know what may come of your thoughtfulness. What a difference it might make. And come back to you in a positive way.
                  

Speaking of things that I love.
This beautiful poem by Rupert Brooke is one of my all-time favorites. I hope you enjoy re-reading it too.

An excerpt from:

The Great Lover

These I have loved:

                  

White plates and cups, clean-gleaming,

Ringed with blue lines; and feathery, faery dust;

Wet roofs, beneath the lamp-light; the strong crust

Of friendly bread; and many-tasting food;

Rainbows; and the blue bitter smoke of wood;

And radiant raindrops couching in cool flowers;

And flowers themselves, that sway through sunny hours,

Dreaming of moths that drink them under the moon;

Then, the cool kindliness of sheets, that soon

Smooth away trouble; and the rough male kiss

Of blankets; grainy wood; live hair that is

Shining and free; blue-massing clouds; the keen

Unpassioned beauty of a great machine;

The benison of hot water; furs to touch;

The good smell of old clothes; and other such -- -

The comfortable smell of friendly fingers,

Hair's fragrance, and the musty reek that lingers

About dead leaves and last year's ferns. . . .

Dear names,

And thousand other throng to me! Royal flames;

Sweet water's dimpling laugh from tap or spring;

Holes in the ground; and voices that do sing;

Voices in laughter, too; and body's pain,

Soon turned to peace; and the deep-panting train;

Firm sands; the little dulling edge of foam

That browns and dwindles as the wave goes home;

And washen stones, gay for an hour; the cold

Graveness of iron; moist black earthen mould;

Sleep; and high places; footprints in the dew;

And oaks; and brown horse-chestnuts, glossy-new;

And new-peeled sticks; and shining pools on grass; -- -

All these have been my loves. And these shall pass,

Whatever passes not, in the great hour,

Nor all my passion, all my prayers, have power

To hold them with me through the gate of Death.

They'll play deserter, turn with the traitor breath,

Break the high bond we made, and sell Love's trust

And sacramented covenant to the dust.

Oh, never a doubt but, somewhere, I shall wake,

And give what's left of love again, and make

New friends, now strangers. . . .

But the best I've known,

Stays here, and changes, breaks, grows old, is blown

About the winds of the world, and fades from brains

Of living men, and dies.

Nothing remains.

***
                 

PS: On a completely different topic. I also have this new post at my product review blog you might enjoy.  It's all about Happy Brushing. LOL Have a wonderful day!