I wandered lonely as a cloud

On a recent research trip in the English Lake District (located just below the Scottish borders, 90 minutes north of Manchester) I could not help but recall a William Wordsworth poem from my school days. I hadn’t enjoyed having to memorise it at the time – now I’m thankful. “I wandered lonely as a cloud” was inspired by a yellow field of daffodils Wordsworth saw on a walk with his sister Dorothy, on April 15 1802, near Ullswater in the Lake District. Wordsworth later composed the poem in 1804, drawing on Dorothy’s detailed description of the same scene in her journal.

I was staying near Ullswater and although it was not daffodil season the mighty lakescapes are an inspiring sight. I can see why they spurred our Billy to eulogise. There are plenty of ways to appreciate the works and history of the great poet in the Lakelands, starting in Grasmere, a lovely town where he lived. Has there ever been a better example of nominative determinism – your name determining your life – than Wordsworth becoming a poet? In Grasmere today, which nestles at the foot of some spectacular fells and with its own lake, one may visit his grave, or the home where he lived and died – Dove Cottage. Today, the cottage has been brought back to life and the sights, sounds and smells are meant to evoke memories of that time over 200 years ago. Precious moments taken from Wordsworths’ poems, journals and letters have been recreated, telling the story of his life here. In this time of ‘plain living and high thinking’ the everyday mixed with the extraordinary. It was while living here, amongst the hustle and bustle of daily life, that Wordsworth wrote many of his greatest poems, and it is easy to see why, with the grandeur and wonder of the Lakes on his doorstep.

The Lake District is littered with grand beguiling lakes and mountains, valleys and magnificent views, and it is a walker’s paradise. Another literary giant that also called this place home was Beatrix Potter, famously connected to the Lakes through her children’s stories, which were inspired by the landscapes she loved here, and her later life as a farmer and conservationist. She purchased Hill Top Farm in 1905 and later married a local solicitor William Heelis, becoming a key figure in the community and an influential force in preserving the area for the future. Many places associated with her, like Hill Top and Lingholm, are now popular attractions and landmarks. A passion for hill-walking and for literature go hand-in-hand in this epic part of Northern England.

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.