Poor Old William (Wordsworth) Poem by Thomas Vaughan Jones

He wandered lonely as a passing cloud
amongst delightful dancing daffodils;
Unknowingly he wove himself a shroud
for he was catching early springtime chills.
Though this may seem to be a tad absurd
poor Willie had a very nasty throat;
and while he softly browsed through golden flowers;
Forgetful, he had gone without a coat.
Perhaps the dreamer should have stayed in bed
safely ensconced inside his dressing gown;
but now alack! alas! Poor William’s dead,
It was the yellow fever brought him down.
The poet passed away within the hour
as he admired a narcissistic flower.