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.
~William Wordsworth, ‘I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud,’ 1804