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Wednesday, 20 November 2013



I wandered lonely in a daze,
the vales and hills a distant blur,
when all at once I was amazed,
some daffodils began to stir,
close to a lake, under the trees,
rocking and swaying in the breeze.

If only a poet was passing through
to describe the scene for me and you.


For oft when on my couch I lie,
in vacant or in pensive mood,
I think of stealing Wordsworth's words
but realise that would be rude.

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