“The Mole had been working very hard all the morning…”

I wandered lonely as a CloudThat floats on high o'er Vales and Hills,When all at once I saw a crowdA host of dancing Daffodills;Along the Lake, beneath the trees,Ten thousand dancing in the breeze.The waves beside them danced, but theyOutdid the sparkling waves in glee:—A Poet could not but be gayIn such a laughing company:I gaz'd—and gaz'd—but little thoughtWhat wealth the shew to me had brought:For oft when on my couch I lieIn vacant or in pensive mood,They flash upon that inward eyeWhich is the bliss of solitude,And then my heart with pleasure fills,And dances with the Daffodils.

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.

Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing—absolute nothing—half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.

I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.

O to be in EnglandNow that April’s there,And whoever wakes in EnglandSees, some morning, unaware,That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheafRound the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,While the chaffinch sings on the orchard boughIn England—now!