I wandered lonely as a cloud,
Into the kitchen where I saw
My flowers looking none too proud;
Especially my daffodils.
In their little pot they sag
Upon the crowded window sill.
Sufficient water they've not had,
Nor potting out into more dirt.
My treatment of them is so bad
It's a wonder they have not been kilt.
Could be they'd thrive with more attention,
But a drop of water's all their gettin'.
Were I as rich as Wordsworth was,
I too could wander cross the land,
Spend out my time for no great cause,
And live in some place much more grand.
My plants I'd treat with loving care -
Or would I merely sit and stare?
Stephen Wylie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/daffodils-revisited/
