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 the inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.’
‘Next girl in,’ said Eric. ‘Hermie dear, don’t block the procession; consider all the pretty things [388] ]said of Vanda’s artless lay. We know how fond she is of the bliss of solitude, and how ready to dance with the daffodils, or other eligible partners.’
‘Chiefly in order to put an end to your cheap sarcasm,’ retorted Hermione, ‘also to finish the affair decently, I will make an attempt to render “The Solitary Reaper.” I remember weeping bitterly over it in childhood.