"Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils."
"Mark the babe not long accustomed to this breathing world; One that hath barely learned to shape a smile, though yet irrational of soul, to grasp with tiny finger - to let fall a tear; And, as the heavy cloud of sleep dissolves, To stretch his limbs, becoming, as might seem. The outward functions of intelligent man."
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Source: William Wordsworth (1847). “The Poems of William Wordsworth”, p.491
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