William Wordsworth was deeply responsive to nature - and sometimes saw it with a surprisingly playful eye. Here he extols one of  spring’s yellow wild flowers.

from TO THE SMALL CELANDINE

Pansies, lilies, kingcups, daisies,

Let them live upon their praises;

Long as there’s a sun that sets,

Primroses will have their glory;

Long as there are violets,

They will have a place in story:
There’s a flower that shall be mine,

’Tis the little celandine.

~

Eyes of some men travel far

For the finding of a star;

Up and down the heavens they go,

Men that keep a mighty rout!

I’m as great as they, I trow,

Since the day I found thee out,

Little Flower – I’ll make a stir,

Like a sage astronomer.

~

Modest, yet withal an Elf

Bold and lavish of thyself;

Since we needs must first have met

I have seen thee, high and low,

Thirty years or more, and yet

’Twas  face I did not know;

Thou hast now, go where I may,

Fifty greetings in a day.

~

Ere a leaf is on a bush

In the time before the thrush

Has a thought about her nest,

Thou wilt come with half a call,

Spreading out thy glossy breast

Like a careless Prodigal;

Telling tales about the sun,

When we’ve little warmth, or none.