And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

The man locked the door quietly so as not to wake his wife. He walked to his car and drove to work. It was about 6 o'clock in the morning, and there was no-one in sight. He had the road all to himself. It was not often that he enjoyed driving. Usually, the traffic and the lights and the anxiety of other drivers robbed him of any potential pleasure.

This morning though was different. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the city was decked in her finest summer clothes and there was no-one on the road to ruin it. Joy was in his heart and Wordsworth on his mind.

"For oft when on my couch I lie,
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye,
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils."

He whistled as he parked the car.