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Poet in the Spotlight: William Wordsworth

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

“[T]he poem also reflects Wordsworth's mind in its illustration of the process of memory.”

I love William Wordsworth; his poems are intriguing and inspiring. There always seems to be a cloud of mystery around his poems, and they seem very dreamy, bringing about a sense of escapism.

I find that he is actually very mature in thought, and develops his ideas through specially chosen words formed into beautiful poems. For example, the last stanza in I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud, which is shown below, is full of meaning: it tells us to be content in simple things, solitude can be bliss, and coupled with the last two lines of the previous stanza, it tells us that memories are wealth. In Lines Written in Early Spring (also found below), he “laments [about] what man has made of man”.
He pulls elements of nature into his poems that make them come alive with birds and flowers and hills and valleys. This is explicitly shown in the third to fifth stanzas of Lines Written in Early Spring. Written in March also shows very specific details of the nature around him, coupled with well-used verbs to express various ideas.

He is also very imaginative. He can imagine wandering as a cloud (I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud). His work, Composed upon Westminster Bridge found below, is full of imagination. As the quote mentions above, each poem reflects his mind.

His sense of rhythm and rhyme is very sharp. The rhyming lines match very accurately, and the stressed beats of each and every poem is strict in tempo. I absolutely love the fact that his Written in March has a very unique rhyme pattern with five rhyme elements: ABABCDEDEC.

He had a very unique life. He was born at Cockermouth, Cumberland County, England, April 7, 1770. He attended school first at Hawkshead School, then at Cambridge University. He then made a tour on the continent with a fellow student. They toured North Wales the following year, and then returned to France in late 1791, and remained there for about a year. His poetic mind began to exhibit itself as he expressed his admiration of the French Revolution:
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive
But to be young was very heaven.
After receiving some money, he devoted himself to study and seclusion. Then, at the age of 23, he published his debut works “Descriptive Sketches” and “The Evening Walk”. He was visited by Coleridge in 1797, which sparked a life-long friendship, and even moved near Coleridge’s residence. Here he composed many of his lighter poems. “Lyrical Ballads” was written in 1797, which also contained Coleridge’s “Ancient Mariner”.

In 1798, with his sister and Coleridge, he went to Germany. Returning to England, he stayed in Grasmere, and reprinted his “Lyrical Ballads” with some additions in 1800. Two years later he married Mary Hutchinson. He also visited Scotland, which provided inspiration for the composition of some of his finest lighter poems. He then completed the “Prelude, or Growth of my own Mind” in 1805, but it was only published posthumously. He also published two volumes of “Poems” in 1807.
He moved to Royal mount in 1813, where he remained for the rest of his life. He enjoyed retirement, as seen in his lines:
Long have I loved what I behold,
The night that calms, the day that cheers;
The common growth of mother-earth
Suffices me--her tears, her mirth,
Her humblest mirth and tears.

The dragon's wing, the magic ring,
I shall not covet for my dower,
If I along that lowly way
With sympathetic heart may stray,
And with a soul of power.
He also commenced to write poems of a higher order. He published “The Excursion” in 1814, which is a philosophical poem. He lived under the habitual away of nature:
To me the meanest flower that blows can, give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
The subsequent works of Wordsworth were numerous, and his fame was extending rapidly. Two universities conferred academic honours upon him. He was also made the Poet Laureate of England in 1843. Unfortunately, in 1847, his only daughter Dora died. He survived the shock for but three years, having reached the age of 80, always enjoying robust health and writing his poems in the open air. He died on April 28, 1850, on the anniversary of the patron saint of England, St George.

Three poems:
1) I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
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:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling leaves in glee;
A poet could not be but 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,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
2) Lines Written in Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
3) Composed upon Westminster Bridge
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent , bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky,
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did the sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

Sources: 
Poems from here.
Biography from here.
Quote from here.

Alvin:P 1i201


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i'm alvin.
i come from hwa chong institution in singapore.
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