A day in the Lake district

A day in the Lake District

I was browsing through some books that had once belonged to my mother and found this sheet of paper tucked inside one of them. It appeared to have been written by her grandfather and recounted a tale told to him by his own grandfather. Here it is exactly as written!

In the early 1800’s I was working in the Lake District, when I happened to meet a young gentleman out on a constitutional. He appeared to be a pleasant enough young chap and we fell into conversation. It seemed he thought well of himself as a poet and remarked on the beauty of the spring flowers.

“All the splendour of God’s creation is displayed at this time of year,” he said, “I feel particularly inspired this morning and I must hurry home to write down my thoughts before the muse deserts me.”

He bade me ‘good morning’ and went on his way. However I looked around more carefully than usual and although no poet myself, felt moved to write down this little verse.

I walk by myself along the tops of the hills
Looking down on lots of daffodils
Beside the lake and under the trees
They were waving about in a gentle breeze

So many, reminded me of the stars that shine
When I look up in the sky at evening time
They were growing around a little bay
And could have been dancing girls at play.

I was quite proud of this small poem and kept it in my bureau for many years. I sometimes take it out to read and remember the chap I met that day. I wonder if he ever wrote his poem and what he made of the scene we both saw. We didn’t introduce ourselves formally, but I think he said his name was Bill.