‘The bliss of solitude’
today at 1:18 pm
For oft, when on my couch I lie
in vacant or in pensive mood,
They fall upon that inward eye
which is the bliss of solitude;
and then my heart with pleasure fills,
and dances with the daffodils.
— “The Daffodils” by William Wordsworth
This has been one of my favorite poems for much of my life. The joy of memory, the pain of nostalgia, and the bliss of having time alone to think, read and write — all familiar things to me — are there in Wordsworth’s poem.
But “the bliss of solitude” is beginning to ring hollow now that the only company I have is phone calls, texts, and the occasional clerk or shopper in the neighborhood. I’m writing this in the library, conscious that I may not be able to get out tomorrow.
Yes, I need my time alone, but this is a bit much even for me. I find myself turning the radio on to hear a different voice in the morning.
I picked up a takeout meal last night, and I had to wait for a few minutes at the corner restaurant I want to support when I can. But I caught myself thinking “I haven’t done this since before the war,” without meaning September 2001.
That’s all for now. I’ll be back when I can.
Margaret Serious has a page on Facebook.