All writers in Op Ed are here to inform and acknowledge issues of importance to our communities, however these writings represent the views and opinions of the authors and not necessarily of The Advertiser.
The Russian invasion of Ukraine is horrible and criminaland fills the news, and as a military veteran I am tempted to add one more column. But I won’t, other than to say this: each of us should be thinking about how we as individuals can help if not the fighting forces there, then the refugees fleeing westward to the safety of neighboring NATO countries. Ukraine’s colors, the colors of its flag, are yellow and sky blue. Their national flower is the sunflower, and I saw on the news that there are some florists selling sunflowers here in the U.S., with the profits going to support Ukraine. Here at home, we can think about Ukraine as we celebrate with nature, enjoying the blue sky and, right now, the yellow beauty of our daffodils. As this column has done for several years running, I shall share with you one of my favorite poems from my father’s poetry book, written by the British poet William Wordsworth. He could have been a South Carolinian, writing about Edgefield County as March begins this and every year.
I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
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.