Daffodils - William Wordsworth

Never has yellow looked so alluring to me, as in this poem below by Wordsworth. The last six lines have stayed fresh in my otherwise lousy memory, no mean feat let me assure you.

Each time I read it, I think about the host of unforgettable memories that will stay with me forever. Touche!

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 leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but 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.

Music Video: Everywhere (Fleetwood Mac)

The ever dramatic soul I was (oops correction, that I still am), it was no surprise that I could often parrot-off prose and verse at various theater, extempore, and recitation dos at school. One poem, for which I received top honors, was The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.

At that time, love was an unfamiliar concept to me, one that I was inclined to scoff at.

Many many years later, I came across a song by Fleetwood Mac, which was picturized on the very same poem.

Both featured a highwayman, heads over heels in love with Bess, the local inn landlord’s daughter, who also reciprocated his passion. One night, as was his wont, he bid adieu to his love, asking her to wait for him till the time he returned with some rich loot. A jealous suitor plays Peeping Tom on the two lovers, and crazed by his own love and envy, tips off the King’s soldiers about the highwayman’s impending return.

The soldiers promptly make their way to the landlord’s inn, drink his ale, and bind and gag Bess to her bed, a rifle tied below her chest. Bess had more matters to be fearful of than the stone-cold muzzle – through her window she could see the road that the highwayman would take, perhaps for the last time.

Twisting and writhing her hands, she was finally able to reach the trigger with one finger. In the dead of the night, the unmistakable sound of a horse's hooves announce her lover approaching her window.

With one fluid stroke she releases the trigger, shattering the peace of the night....

With her death, she gave life to her highwayman, who turned Westward Ho, but who, with the coming of dawn, learnt who it was who warned him with her death.

Morbid? Or achingly sweet?

You decide what the song means to you.

As for me, let me just say that love is not all that unfamiliar an emotion to me now.....

See the video below:

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening - Robert Frost

The poem below by Robert Frost is a personal favorite. I guess most people identify strongly with its concluding four lines. It is said that even Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru was partial to this ode, so much so that he always kept a copy on his desk, and saw it first thing in the morning.

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost (1874 - 1963)