Photography Writing

A touch of spring

Yesterday and today were perfect days to herald in a gentle Spring, and I was able to photograph several early flowers, including magnolia, snow drops, and, of course, daffodils. The magnolia and snow drops will wait till tomorrow; for today, in what is becoming a Burningbird Spring tradition, the first of the daffodils and the perfect poem to go with them, Henry Wordsworth’s “Daffodils”.


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.



Dedicated to promise of future Springs.



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