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.