The Daffodils

William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth in Cumberland, in 1770. His early life was spent in the beautiful Lake District which was later the inspiration for so many of his poetical works. He sympathized at first with the French revolutionary movement until the Napoleonic despotism led to his disillusionment. In 1795 a legacy from a young admirer of his made possible his retirement from the world with his sister Dorothy to a quiet spot at Racedown, Worcestershire, to devote himself to "plain living and high thinking." There he was visited by Coleridge. The two young men published jointly a volume of poetry called, "Lyrical Ballads." In 1843, following the death of Southey, he was appointed poet laureate. Among his well-known works are: "Lines Written above Tintern Abbey," "Ode to Immortality," "Michael," "The Daffodils," "The Excursion," and "The Prelude." He died in 1850.

With the exception of the first two lines, and the early part of the last stanza, this poem is bright and sparkling. It should be rendered with lively inflections and wide intervals of pitch. Be careful, however, to keep the whole within reason and refinement.

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 the 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 the inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills
And dances with the daffodils.

The Grasshopper and the Cricket

Leigh Hunt

Leigh Hunt was born at Southgate, Middlesex, in 1784. His father had settled early in life in Philadelphia and married an American girl, with whom he returned soon after to England. The boy had an impediment in his speech (later corrected) which prevented his going to college, but he read extensively and wrote verses, which were published in 1801 under the title, "Juvenilia." This served to introduce him to literary and theatrical society, and he numbered among his friends most of the distinguished writers of his time, including Byron and Shelley. He was editor of several magazines and wrote many essays, poems, and plays. Together with Hazlitt he published "Round Table" containing a group of essays. Among his best poems is "Captain Sword and Captain Pen."

Warm affection for the tiny things of earth is seen at its height in this poem. Project yourself into the soul of the "green little vaulter," and with the "warm little housekeeper" enjoy the hearth. The tone of voice is rich and soft throughout.

GREEN little vaulter in the sunny grass,

Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazy noon, When even the bees lag at the summoning brass; And you, warm little housekeeper, who class

With those who think the candles come too soon, Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune Nick the glad silent moments as they pass; O sweet and tiny cousins, that belong

One to the fields, the other to the hearth,

Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are strong

At your clear hearts; and both were sent on earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song: In-doors and out, summer and winter,-Mirth.

Mont Blanc before Sunrise

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born in 1772, the son of a Devonshire clergyman. He received his early education at Christ's Hospital, a charity school, where he met Charles Lamb, later his lifelong friend. He studied a little at Jesus College, and later entered the army, but he made a poor soldier and gave up that career. He resumed his studies at Cambridge, but left it without a degree. He published in 1798, together with his friend, the poet Wordsworth, a small volume of poetry entitled "Lyrical Ballads." The opium habit which he contracted soon after this time caused him to take up his residence with Dr. Gillman in the effort to overcome it, and he lived there until his death in 1834. His later writings are in prose, of which "Table Talk," "Biographia Literaria," and "Aids to Reflection," are well-known. His bestknown poem is "The Ancient Mariner."

Since this poem is in the form of an apostrophe, it is best read from the book or manuscript. It contains some of the best lines in all English poetry, and has been characterized as the best example of the mood of the sublime. The tone is large, round, full. The movement is slow. The mood is contemplative. Do not neglect to develop the musical qualities of this poem.

HAST thou a charm to stay the morning-star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald, awful head, O sovereign Blanc !
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base

Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful form,
Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines,
How silently! Around thee, and above,
Deep is the air and dark, substantial black,
An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it
As with a wedge. But when I look again
It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine,
Thy habitation from eternity.

O dread and silent mount! I gazed upon thee
Till thou, still present to the bodily sense,

Didst vanish from my thought! Entranced in prayer I worshipped the invisible alone.

Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody,

So sweet we know not we are listening to it,-
Thou, the meanwhile wast blending with my thought,
Yea, with my life, and life's own secret joy;
Till the dilating soul, enrapt, transfused,
Into the mighty vision passing-there,

As in her natural form, swelled vast to heaven.

Awake, my soul! not only passive praise
Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears,
Mute thanks, and secret ecstasy! Awake,
Voice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, awake!
Green vales and icy cliffs! all join my hymn!

Thou first and chief, sole sovereign of the vale!
O struggling with the darkness all the night,
And visited all night by troops of stars,

Or when they climb the sky, or when they sink,-
Companion of the morning-star at dawn,

Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
Co-herald-awake! Oh, wake! and utter praise!
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth?
Who filled thy countenance with rosy light?
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?

And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad!
Who called you forth from night and utter death,
From dark and icy caverns called you forth,
Down those precipitous, black, jagged rocks,
Forever shattered, and the same forever?
Who gave you your invulnerable life,

Your strength, your speed, your fury and your joy,
Unceasing thunder, and eternal foam?

And who commanded,-and the silence came,"Here let the billows stiffen and have rest?"

Ye ice-falls! that from the mountain's brow

Adown enormous ravines slope amain-
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice,
And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge!
Motionless torrents! Silent cataracts!

Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven.
Beneath the full keen moon? Who bade the sun
Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living
flowers

Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?

"God!" let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer, and let the ice-plain echo, "God!" "God!" sing, ye meadow streams, with gladsome

voice!