Sunset at the Marsh


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I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
__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.

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2017
All Rights Reserved – No Reblogs Please. Thank You

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Gold and Crimson Sunset Lands

We at JayJacy are announcing our new “Sunrise-Sunset” Art on Canvas Collection is forthcoming soon just in time for the spring “Apple Blossom Festival” and Art Exhibit as well as the Classy Chic Home Design Show and Sale. We wanted to share a sneak peek with you here at our JayJacy, HDRCHIC and ClassyChicHome. Be encouraged to enjoy the beauty of the art and photography you create by showcasing it many wonderful ways. Enjoy!

JayJacy Photography

 

The Four Winds

WIND of the North,
Wind of the Norland snows,
Wind of the winnowed skies, and sharp, clear stars,—
Blow cold and keen across the naked hills,
And crisp the lowland pools with crystal films,
And blur the casement squares with glittering ice,
But go not near my love.

Wind of the West,
Wind of the few, far clouds,
Wind of the gold and crimson sunset lands,-
Blow fresh and pure across the peaks and plains,
And broaden the blue spaces of the heavens,
And sway the grasses and the mountain pines,
But let my dear one rest.

Wind of the East,
Wind of the sunrise seas,
Wind of the clinging mists and gray, harsh rains,—
Blow moist and chill across the wastes of brine,
And shut the sun out, and the moon and stars,
And lash the boughs against the dripping eaves,
Yet keep thou from my love.

But thou, sweet wind!
Wind of the fragrant South,
Wind from the bowers of jasmine and of rose,—
Over magnolia blooms and lilied lakes
And flowering forests come with dewy wings,
And stir the petals at her feet, and kiss
The low mound where she lies.

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Charles Henry Luders

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Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2017 All Rights Reserved
No Reblogs Please. Thank You