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The Daffodils Author 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, Fluttring and dancing in the breeze Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch in a never-ending line Along the marjin of a bay; Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Outdid the sparking waves in glee; A poet could not but be gay, In such 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 pensive mood, They flash upon that in ward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasures fill, And dances with the daffodils.

The Old Woman Author Joseph Cambell As a white candle In a Holy place So Is the beauti Of an aged face. Asthe spent radiance Of the winter sun   So is a woman With her travail done. Her brood gone from her And her thoughts as still As the waters Under aruined mill.

"Hope" Is The Thing With Feathers Author Emily Dickinson "Hope" is the thing with feathers- That perches in the soul- And sings the tune without words- And never stops- at all- And sweetest in the gale- is heard- And sore must be the storm- That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm- I've heard it in the chilliest land- And on the strangest sea Yet, never, in Extrmity, I tasked a crumb- of Me.

The Most Beautiful Flower                                                                             Author Cherly L.Costello-Forshey The bench was deserted as I sat down To read, Beneath the long,straggly branches of an old willow tree; Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, And if that weren't enough to ruin my day, A young boy out of breath approached me,all tired from play. He stood right before with his head tilted down And said with great excitement,"Look what I found!' In his hand was a flower,and what a pitiful sight, With its petals all worn-not enough rain,or too little light. Wanting him to take his dead flower and go off to play, I faked a smile and shifted away. But instead of retreating he sat next to my side And placed the flower to his nose and declared with overacted surprise, 'it sure smells pretty and it's beautiful too. That's why I picked it;here,it's for you.' The weed before me