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 be but gay,
In such a jocund
company:
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.