Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Interpretation
The quote describes the joy and liveliness of nature through the image of flowers dancing in the breeze, seen in a fleeting glance.
In this quote by William Wordsworth, the poet captures a moment of natural beauty and exuberance as he observes a field of daffodils swaying delightfully in the wind. It reflects the theme of the relationship between humans and nature, emphasizing how nature can inspire happiness and uplift the human spirit.
In practice
In a speech about the importance of environmental conservation, one might say, 'As William Wordsworth observed, 'Ten thousand saw I at a glance, tossing their heads in sprightly dance.' This reminds us of the beauty we must preserve.
For mightier far_x000D_ _x000D_ Than strength of nerve or sinew, or the sway_x000D_ _x000D_ Of magic potent over sun and star,_x000D_ _x000D_ Is love, though oft to agony distrest,_x000D_ _x000D_ And though his favourite be feeble woman's breast.
By all means sometimes be alone; salute thyself; see what thy soul doth wear; dare to look in thy chest; and tumble up and down what thou findest there.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,_x000D_ _x000D_ The earth, and every common sight,_x000D_ _x000D_ To me did seem_x000D_ _x000D_ Apparelled in celestial light,_x000D_ _x000D_ The glory and the freshness of a dream.
Books are yours, Within whose silent chambers treasure lies Preserved from age to age; more precious far Than that accumulated store of gold And orient gems, which, for a day of need, The Sultan hides deep in ancestral tombs. These hoards of truth you can unlock at will.
The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune.
Shalt show us how divine a thing A woman may be made.
Tis like the birthday of the world,_x000D_ _x000D_ When earth was born in bloom;_x000D_ _x000D_ The light is made of many dyes,_x000D_ _x000D_ The air is all perfume:_x000D_ _x000D_ There's crimson buds, and white and blue,_x000D_ _x000D_ The very rainbow showers_x000D_ _x000D_ Have turned to blossoms where they fell,_x000D_ _x000D_ And sown the earth with flowers.
The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.
Follow humbly wherever and to whatever abyss Nature leads, or you shall learn nothing.
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer, Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing, Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects, Ceaseless, insistent. The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples, The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence Under a moon waning and worn, broken, Tired with summer.
Only to the white man was nature a 'wilderness'.
From the grasses in the field to the stars in the sky, each one is doing just that; and there is such profound peace and surpassing beauty in nature because none of these tries forcibly to transgress its limitations.
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