The English poet, William Wordsworth, was born exactly two hundred and fifty years ago today. To celebrate this momentous anniversary I am posting the first stanza from his highly regarded poem, “Imitations of Imbecility,” which I am sure you will find speaks presciently to our current situation.
I wandered lonely as a cloud
that floats on high o’er vales and hills,
when all at once I saw a crowd,
of Londoners completely ignoring social distancing advice;
beside the lake, beneath the trees,
fluttering and dancing in the breeze.