Lying there in the dark
His life's work now done
Is the body of William
A lawyer's son
At ten he was lively
A cricket was he
There was so much to know
And so much to see
At twenty he knew
Just what he was to do
He would set out his stall
With a poem or two
But his father was angry
'Not working my son?
There are bills to be paid
And you've hardly begun! '
Wandering lonely, aged thirty two
The poet encounters a wonderful view
Beside a lake, his eye at last fills
With a crowd, a host of golden daffodils
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem