To Daffodils

Mary L. Holden
2 min readAug 24, 2016
Image courtesy of Serge Bertasius Photography at

Daff0dils in the Zer0 P0int Field

I w0ndered 0nly as the cl0ud
That fl0ats 0'er texts and Wind0ws® sills,
When all at 0nce I saw a pic,
A p0st, a clump 0f daff0dils;
Sprung fr0m the earth, sevens 0r sixels,
Inside an iPh0ne, turned t0 pixels.
Cauti0us as th0se p0ints 0f light
That twinkle 0n an inside lid,
They r0se t0 pr0ve a little height
Al0ng the margin 0f small grid:
0ne d0zen 0nce fr0zen in history’s b00k,
N0w c0mes new spring as we b0th l00k.
The man beside them; far away
0ut-did th0se pale bl00ms in th0ught:
A p0et’s th0usand w0rds 0f play,
Finally netted, finally caught:
I gazed — and gazed — at what was taught
What wealth the gift t0 me had br0ught:
F0r 0ft, when 0n this c0uch I lie
So s0mber 0r in pensive m00d,
Their bulbs flash 0n my inward eye
That cl0ses up in s0litude;
0h, a0rta y0ur strengths and wills,
Still lays in wait f0r daff0dils.

—with sincere ap0l0gies t0 the spirit 0f William W0rdsw0rth



by William Wordsworth, 1804

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

NOTE: To imitate the masters is an exercise in intimidation. Yet they beg to thread through to modern life and lives. Let us take tea with Wordsworth, his friends, his flora, his fondness.



Mary L. Holden

A constantly evaporating editor and writer. Believer in medium since 2013 when they made me wait for an invitation….