When reading "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud", I could not help but to remember a few of my sweet memories in nature. The magic of Wordsworth's words in saying, "but little thought/ What wealth the show to me had brought" could not be more true. I too often do not value beauty in the simplest forms; however, when I do take the time to enjoy a sunset, or take a walk on the beach at night, I always remember how it made me feel. I could never remember every specific detail, but always how it made me feel in that moment. I adore this poem, and how he can capture the beauty in a memory of something so simple.
I commented on Brannen's post.
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