In 1994, when I was a senior in high school, I sang in a trio with two other girls. We sounded like angels, our voices blending perfectly together, the sound physical as well as aural. Today, I still am aquainted with both of the girls. One, the mother now of a son, I don't really know anymore (or maybe I do, as it seemed she hadn't really changed the last time I saw her). The other, Heather, is my best friend. We grew into each other the way you might find comfort in boots that were once too constrictive. She's like daffodils to me now.
The song our trio sang was the following poem set to music.
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
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 waves in glee: -
A poet could not but be 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.