"Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils."
"The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion; the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, An appetite; a feeling and a love that had no need of a remoter charm by thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye."
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Source: 'Lines composed a few miles above Tintern Abbey' (1798) l. 72
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"one daffodil is worth a thousand pleasures, then one is too few."
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