I wandered lonely as a bear
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.
Bipolar Bear, in joy and strife,
His heart a vessel of extremes,
Found solace in the vibrant life,
Amidst these sun-kissed, floral dreams.
His mood would sway like petals dance,
In radiant bloom, a fleeting glance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I 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.
And thus, Bipolar Bear did find,
In nature's arms, a refuge sweet,
Where life's unyielding, stormy grind,
Could soften 'neath the flowers' feat.
His soul, embraced by beauty's balm,
Found peace and solace, love's warm calm.
(Channelling my inner William Wordsworth)