Let's Tackle Some Poetry

Kudos to each and every one of you who enjoys poetry, because I am not in your group. I'm sorry to say that, when I read poetry, about two lines into the probably beautiful piece of work, my mind suddenly starts to wander. By the end of the poem, if it's about dogs, I'll probably be thinking about what's for lunch. There's the only rare occasion when I actually understand what I'm reading, and I must say that William Wordsworth has finally caught my attention on a poem simple, yet slightly interesting.
My British Literature professor mentioned that many people don't enjoy Wordsworth's poem, "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," because it's too "cute." While this accusation might be true to some extent, I rather enjoyed the poem. There are some things in it that make me feel connected to him in a weird way. It could possibly be because I enjoy being outside, and it reminds me of things that I love.
There are a couple of things that I want to look at in this poem with you. I may be using some of the things that my class has discussed with the poem, mixed with my opinion. Feel free to throw your opinions at me, too, if you think I'm completely wrong!

          I wandered lonely as a cloud
          That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
          When all at once I saw a crowd,
          A host, of golden daffodils;
          Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
          Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

          Continuous as the stars that shine
          And twinkle on the milky way,
          They stretched in never-ending line
          Along the margin of a bay:                                  10
          Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
          Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

          The waves beside them danced; but they
          Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
          A poet could not but be gay,
          In such a jocund company:
          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,                               20
          They flash upon that inward eye
          Which is the bliss of solitude;
          And then my heart with pleasure fills,
          And dances with the daffodils.

(Thank you http://www.bartleby.com/145/ww260.html for the poem!)
Okay, in my class, we discussed how many of the things in this poem are given human qualities (personification), while humans are given nonhuman qualities. Why does he do this? When he mentions the daffodils fluttering or dancing in the breeze, or tossing their heads in sprightly dance, what does it make you think of? Are the daffodils actually dancing, or do you imagine them being tossed back and forth in the wind? So, while we don't actually imagine the daffodils tip-toeing around a stage to a beautiful song, the words create a much more beautiful way to describe how he sees them. He also uses this method in the last lines when he mentions how his heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils. I feel a similar experience to this when I think of hiking at Devil's Lake in Baraboo, Wisconsin. When I feel down about something, I imagine myself hiking up the bluffs and seeing that breathtaking view which only personally taking on the challenge of going up them can satisfy.
I also enjoy how Wordsworth mentions how no person could be but gay when he or she is experiencing exactly what he sees. I guess that no one could ever experience that exact thing; I mean, he is a cloud when he's writing this, but you get the idea.
Finally, the thing about this poem is that it's about these wonderful daffodils.  (Thanks Google for the picture)While yes, they are beautiful, he thinks that they are the best thing that he experiences while he is this cloud. How could that be? He sees beautiful sparkling waves from the lake that they are near, he sees hills and vales, but all that he truly loves are the daffodils? What I think Wordsworth is really getting at here is that we need to find beauty in everything. Yes, the daffodils are beautiful, but if I were the cloud, I'd probably have to write about the view of everything altogether! I guess that's why I'm not the cloud, Wordsworth is, and if he is, indeed, trying to say that there is beauty in even the smallest of things, then I wish that I could say, "Got your message man!"
 It's a beautiful poem; I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!