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Saturday 22 January 2011

Daffodils, by W Wordsworth. 1st draft (beginning),



I walked along the road a bit
and up and down some hills.
And then I saw some yellow flowers
They called them daffodils
Along the pond and in the wood
waving and wobbling, they looked good


unending like the stars that glimmer
and glisten high up in the sky
they stretched as far as I could see
until a fly flew in my eye
I thought I saw a fair few thousand
sort of jigging to an unseen band


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