Once again I seeThese hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little linesOf sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,Green to the very door and wreaths of smokeSent up, in silence, from among the trees!With some uncertain notice, as might seemOf vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 20Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fireThe Hermit sits alone. Chou)įive years have past five summers, with the lengthOf five long winters! and again I hearThese waters, rolling from their mountain-springsWith a soft inland murmur. Once againDo I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,That on a wild secluded scene impressThoughts of more deep seclusion and connectThe landscape with the quiet of the sky.The day is come when I again reposeHere, under this dark sycamore, and view 10These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves'Mid groves and copses. It's this mystic vision that prompted Richard Bucke to write in his Cosmic Consciousness (1901) that Wordsworth had such a transcendental experience as Blake, Dante, and Whitman.( Peter Y. But it's the mind of man that perceives this beauty, and a spirit which rolls through all things. Therefore am I still / A lover of the meadows and the woods, / And mountains and of all that we behold / From this green earth " In these lines Wordsworth has embraced the four elements of nature sun (fire), ocean (water), air, earth. His "Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood" reminded me that our Soul comes "From God, who is our home." But my favorite Wordsworth poem is "Tintern Abbey", especially lines 93-105: "And I have felt / A presence that disturbs me with the joy / Of elevated thoughts a sense sublime / Of something far more deeply interfused, / Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, / And the round ocean and the living air, / And the blue sky, and in the mind of man / A motion and a spirit, that impels / All thinking things, all objects of all thought, / And rolls through all things. I loved Wordsworth's poem about the daffodils in "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud". I recall finding an article in the National Geographic about the Lake District that inspired many of the British Romantic Poets. William Wordsworth's poetry has been my favorite since I wrote a term paper in Junior High School on "William Wordsworth, Lewis Carroll, Walter De la Mare".
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