Poetry Response #3

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

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 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.

            This poem doesn’t spend much time trying to be more than what it is on the surface, and its simple origin – inspired by a walk Wordsworth and his sister went on around Glencoyne Bay in Ullswater – matches the simple nature of the poem. It’s about a person, a lone wanderer, who discovers a host of beautiful golden daffodils beside a lake during their wandering. They don’t fully realize the gift that this patch of daffodils has granted them, but later their thoughts flash back to the sight, which fills them with joy and continues to do so whenever they think about it from then on.

            I can identify with the narrator in that I too tend to become lonely and wander from time to time. This isn’t always a bad thing; I myself enjoy having private time when I want it, because it gives me time to think more freely about things I care about. The way the narrator mentions floating “on high o’er vales and hills” could imply that they view themselves as somewhat above everybody else – perhaps a bit of a cliché when it comes to poets. There are times when I feel the same way for some reason.

            In the final stanza, the narrator notes that when they feel pensive, they think back on the crowd of daffodils and their heart fills with pleasure once more. I’m the same way here as well; I’m fond of retreating into my mind and daydreaming when I’m bored or distressed. It cheers me up a little bit, just like thinking of the dancing daffodils does for Wordsworth.