Check out The Children's Poetry Archive by clicking here.
WELCOME!
Welcome to the Big Walnut Elementary 5th Grade website!All assignments are grouped by teacher and are organized in descending order.
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Wandered.
![]() |
| Sai, Passing Cloud 1, 2009 |
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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 but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
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.
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
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 but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
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.
- William Wordsworth
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Snow.
Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight ...
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, from "The Snow-Storm"
Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight ...
- Ralph Waldo Emerson, from "The Snow-Storm"
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)


