Tag: Dorothy Wordsworth

Dancing with daffodils

Wild daffodils in the Lake District photographed by my friend Gill Henwood

In this coming week, we who live in the earth’s Northern Hemisphere, move from the season of Winter to that of Spring.
The Spring equinox is often known as the ‘Astronomical’ Spring to differentiate it from the ‘Meteorological’ Spring which is used by weather forecasters and is always on March 1st. The season of Spring generally falls on either March 20th or 21st (19th in a Leap Year) This year it is on March 20th.
Nature, however, prefers to set its own time and has already begun showing growth from the earth; songs from the birds and a gentle ‘greening’ of the leaves as trees create a dusting of new life.

It has been suggested that it was these words which inspired her brother, William, to write his own poem in praise of daffodils. The sentiments and imagery expressed by Dorothy are certainly traceable in his poem.
William became famous and eventually Poet Laureate whilst Dorothy was all but forgotten at the time but there are some who would suggest that his daffodil poem might constitute plagiarism!
What can be certainly said is that between them they helped to make the Daffodil become a joyful sign of Spring and of Resurrection. [Mr G]

photo GH

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.

[William Wordsworth]