contemplating things of beauty and remaining among familiar and peaceful landscapes. Life requires us to step out into the world and face its ugliness and pain as well as its splendour. For Wordsworth that meant facing the reality of political and industrial revolution; for us it means applying ourselves to the particular challenges of the modem world. 
But when we, too, find ourselves in vacant or in pensive mood', perhaps, like the poet, we can draw comfort and inspiration from the positive things that we have experienced in the past. All of us have our own store-house of precious memories, and they are a powerful antidote to the brash and frightening images that often clamour for our attention, Recently I came upon these words which, compared with those of Wordsworth, might seem rather trite. But they appeal to me, and I offer them to you in the hope that they might be able to lift your spirits when the need arises: 
'In moments of discouragement, defeat, or even despair, there are always certain things to cling to. Little things usually: remembered laughter, the face of a sleeping child, a tree in the wind - in fact, any reminder of something deeply felt or dearly loved. No man is so poor as not to have many of these small candles. When they are lighted, darkness goes away -- and a touch of wonder remains.'

With my prayers and best wishes
   Simon Holland

Dear Friends
When I was at school, I was occasionally made to learn poems by heart. It wasn't something that I much enjoyed, but much to my surprise, some of the poems have stayed with me. Among them is Wordsworth's 'Daffodils', which I think of each year as the first daffodils make their dazzling appearance. Sometimes they are early, sometimes they are late, but by the end of February they have once again begun to transform our gardens and roadsides. 
In his poem, Wordsworth famously describes a multitude of daffodils in full flower along the edge of a lake. Wordsworth's home was, of course, at Grasmere, and the whole poem is a wonderful evocation of the Lake District, with the dancing waves of the lake mimicking the movement of the flowers. Most of the poem expresses the poet's delight as he contemplates such a bright and beautiful scene, but in the last verse he becomes more serious. Here he notes the way in which his memory of the daffodils has become a lasting source of joy: something capable of lifting his spirits whenever he is feeling lonely or sad: