is my favorite poem by English Romantic poets so far.
Have you ever beheld a daffodil with thy own eyes? Well, I have. When I living in the white house last spring, on my way to the campus on that little trail leading to the parking lot, grew the most beautiful daffodils. They were forever dancing in the wind, swaying their tiny bodies now and then, to the music of the beauteous season.
What is it like if "a host" of these lovely creatures are gathering at the bank of a lake?
Well, that's what Wordsworth saw and that's his muse of this equally lovely "I wandered lonely as a cloud."
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