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Chapter - 1

William Wordsworth - 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.


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Your Children are not YOUR children.

...and a woman who held a babe against her bosom said,
"Speak to us of Children." And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,


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