When Liam was four years old, before he could read or write words on his own, we asked him to transcribe Abraham Lincoln's
Gettysburg Address in its entirety. I think it took him three weeks to finish. The writing is obviously childish and the lettering is quite amusing and imaginative to the say the least but it captures a moment in his young years that we will never get back. Of course, we had the precious pages matted and framed. Much like filming or photographing the kids in various stages of their lives from babyhood, first steps, holidays, or simply playing, we wanted to record (in writing) this snippet in time before they could read much less understand what they were writing. I think they, as will we--the proud parents, look upon these early writing samples and remember back to their toddling years with much fondness. For me, I'm sure I'll shed a sentimental tear or two.
Now that Kimmie is at the same age, we toiled over which passage she would copy. We decided that it must be a poem. Dave came across the lovely poem "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud" by William Wordsworth. I hadn't read this poem since my younger days and it instantly carried me back to when I loved to read and write poetry (oh so long ago). I had forgotten this poem and when I read it again, I knew at once that it was the perfect one. Knowing that daffodils are one of my favorite obsessions, Dave was a sweetheart to reintroduce this poem into my life. Now I will always have my daffodils (and flower fields) as transcribed by my lovely little lass.
I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud
by William Wordsworth
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 leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but 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.
