Posts Tagged ‘William Wordsworth’

I pandered my art to the crowd

Whose tastes were as low as can be;

And when magenta was the rage

My daffodils vowed them all:

Nev’r did critics see such still-life

As glorious as daffodils

In maddening color,-

Magenta they cried so loud

And paid gold to possess art.

Daffodils ever since grow

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

No more fluttering or dancing in the breeze

But incongruous to passer-by:

Art killed nature, I dare say.

Here below is the original: 

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…”


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