Classic Poem

1.

It was the earliest evening of the spring:
The hills with vernal green were gently flushed,
And every sound about the place was hushed,
Except the blue lake softly murmuring.
The glow of sunset came there, dusk and rosy;
I met a little child in Rydal vale,
With a huge bunch of daffodils, a posy
Large as the child herself, who was but frail,
And hot with climbing; and in all the rills,
With both hands clasped, she dipped her daffodils;
And ever as she walked she loved to wipe
Her face with those wet flowers, and it did please
Her simple heart to hear the thrushes pipe,
And she would look for them among the trees.