I swim in the sea of daffodils
And the sky as beautiful as youth,
The sun smiling with a blush of red
And the wind dancing with everyone else

I look at the birds humming a tune
And the children singing along with them,
The animals enjoying the party
And the writer who pens it all down

All of this I find not enjoying
Not figuring what is wrong,
Maybe beauty is not a thing of joy
Or maybe it is I here, who does not belong.