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| Dorothy Wordsworth |
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| From Dorothy Wordsworth´s Diary. |
It was a threatening, misty morning, The wind was furious, and we thought we must have returned(...) . The wind seized our breath. The Lake was rough(...) . We got over into a field to avoid some cows (...). When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park we saw a few daffodils close to the waterside. We fancied that the lake had floated the seeds ashore, and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as we went along there were more and yet more; and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the width of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful. They grew among the mossy stones about and about them - some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness - and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind, that blew upon them over the lake - they looked so gay, ever-glancing, ever-changing.
The wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little knot, and a few stragglers a few yards higher up - but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity, unity, life of that one busy highway (...). The bays were stormy and we heard the waves at different distances(...). Rain came on (...) all was cheerless and gloomy, so we faced the storm. |
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