Home

DSC_0356Wordsworth’s poetry has always bothered me. It has to do with the way his words sound in the mouth while reading them, or while imagining them read aloud. He’s not as other Romantic poets; everything is fluffier; even his phonemes are soft and fluffy. Sometimes, I just want to throw dirt into them.

Remember “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud?” Naturally, this was the first poem of his I’d read years ago. Immediately, I was annoyed by its self-contentedness and its arrangement of “glee,” “gay,” and “jocund” in three consecutive lines. And why was he so high? I’d like a stanza on that. And do you really oft think about these daffodils while sitting at home on your couch, Wordsworth? I like daffodils. I’ve thought about them before, sure.

But nothing’s going to stop me from re-wording Wordsworth’s poem to suit my idea satire. If you’re a fan, consider not reading further.

Here is the original:

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.
 
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of the bar:
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 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.

Here is my version:

I Wandered as Homely as a Cow
 
I wandered homely as a cow
That drools on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a plow,
To hoist some golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Jingling and jangling as I wheezed.
 
Continuous exposure and I’ll go blind
But I get my ass on its milky way,
I wretched a never-ending line
Along the margin of the bar:
Ten billion saw I at a glance,
Inducing within me a deepening trance.
 
The blades beside danced; and they
were cut in sparkling waves with ease;
A poet could not but sneeze;
Amid the pollinating bees;
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What health the chop to me had brought:
 
For oft, when on my couch I roll
In violent or offensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then I cart the plow to till,
The field where I plant hypoallergenic frill.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Wordsworth Re-worded

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s