I wandered lonely past Goldings
On the way to work until,
When all at once I saw a gathering,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the church, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the boats that line
And oft bob on the fisher fleet,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along Lynn Minster on Church Street:
A hundred saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
Lynn lumiere beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling lights in glee:
This reporter could not but cheer,
As the first sign of spring is seen:
I gazed and gazed and then I thought
What wealth the bloom in Lynn had brought.
And so, whilst seated at my desk,
I type the words for a story,
To describe the daffodils, statuesque,
Of which pictures are in the EDP,
And readers' hearts with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
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