IN youth from rock to rock I went, From hill to hill in discontent Of pleasure high and turbulent, Most pleased when most uneasy; But now my own delights I make,-- My thirst at every rill can slake, And gladly Nature's love partake, Of Thee, sweet Daisy!
Thee Winter in the garland wears That thinly decks his few grey hairs; Spring parts the clouds with softest airs, That she may sun thee; Whole Summer-fields are thine by right; And Autumn, melancholy Wight! Doth in thy crimson head delight When rains are on thee.
In shoals and bands, a morrice train, Thou greet'st the traveller in the lane; Pleased at his greeting thee again; Yet nothing daunted, Nor grieved if thou be set at nought: And oft alone in nooks remote We meet thee, like a pleasant thought, When such are wanted.
Be violets in their secret mews The flowers the wanton Zephyrs choose; Proud be the rose, with rains and dews Her head impearling, Thou liv'st with less ambitious aim, Yet hast not gone without thy fame; Thou art indeed by many a claim The Poet's darling.
If to a rock from rains he fly, Or, some bright day of April sky, Imprisoned by hot sunshine lie Near the green holly, And wearily at length should fare; He needs but look about, and there Thou art!--a friend at hand, to scare His melancholy.
A hundred times, by rock or bower, Ere thus I have lain couched an hour, Have I derived from thy sweet power Some apprehension; Some steady love; some brief delight; Some memory that had taken flight; Some chime of fancy wrong or right; Or stray invention.
If stately passions in me burn, And one chance look to Thee should turn, I drink out of an humbler urn A lowlier pleasure; The homely sympathy that heeds The common life, our nature breeds; A wisdom fitted to the needs Of hearts at leisure.
Fresh-smitten by the morning ray, When thou art up, alert and gay, Then, cheerful Flower! my spirits play With kindred gladness: And when, at dusk, by dews opprest Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of careful sadness.
And all day long I number yet, All seasons through, another debt, Which I, wherever thou art met, To thee am owing; An instinct call it, a blind sense; A happy, genial influence, Coming one knows not how, nor whence, Nor whither going.
Child of the Year! that round dost run Thy pleasant course,--when day's begun As ready to salute the sun As lark or leveret, Thy long-lost praise thou shalt regain; Nor be less dear to future men Than in old time;--thou not in vain Art Nature's favourite.
About the author
About the poet
William Wordsworth (1770-1850) was an English poet who is often considered one of the founders of the Romantic movement in English literature. He was born in Cockermouth, England, and grew up in the Lake District, a region that would become the inspiration for much of his poetry.
Wordsworth began writing poetry in his early teens, and he went on to attend Cambridge University, where he became friends with fellow poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Together, they published Lyrical Ballads (1798), a collection of poems that helped to define the Romantic movement.
Wordsworth's poetry is characterized by its focus on nature and the inner lives of individuals, and his use of everyday language and vivid imagery helped to revolutionize the way that poetry was written and read. Some of his most famous works include "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud," "Tintern Abbey," and "Ode: Intimations of Immortality."
In addition to his work as a poet, Wordsworth was also a social and political activist who advocated for radical change during a time of great social upheaval in England. He served as a member of Parliament and supported the abolition of slavery and other progressive causes.
Wordsworth died in 1850 at the age of 80. His work has had a profound influence on English literature and on the way that poetry is written and read, and his legacy as one of the greatest poets in the English language continues to be celebrated and studied today.
Wordsworth died in 1850 at the age of 80. His work has had a profound influence on English literature and on the way that poetry is written and read, and his legacy as one of the greatest poets in the English language continues to be celebrated and studied today.
Wordsworth fell in love twice in France: once with Annette Vallon, a young French lady who later bore him a daughter, and then again with the French Revolution. When he returned to England, he penned his Letter to the Bishop of Llandaff, a treatise in support of the French Revolutionary cause, but it was never published. Following the receipt of a bequest in 1795, Wordsworth moved to Alfoxden, Dorset, near Coleridge, with his sister Dorothy.
Who Was William Wordsworth?
He produced several of his most famous poems at this time, as well as traveling to Germany with Coleridge and Dorothy. In 1802, Wordsworth married Mary Hutchinson, and a year ago, the second and enlarged edition of the Lyrical Ballads was published. Wordsworth's most famous poem, 'I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud' was written at Dove Cottage in 1804. The poems 'Resolution and Independence' and 'Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood' were featured in Poems in Two Volumes, which were published in 1807.
He also formed new connections with Walter Scott, Sir G. Beaumont, and De Quincy during this time, produced poetry like "Elegaic Stanzas inspired by a Picture of Peele Castle" (1807). Also he had five children. In 1842, he was an award-winning poet and got a government pension the following year.
Wordsworth's poetry is still widely read today. Wordsworth's own remarks on the purpose of poetry, which he termed "the most philosophical of all writing" and whose aim is "truth...carried alive into the heart by passion," may best explain its virtually universal appeal.
Wordsworth married Mary Hutchinson, a boyhood friend, in 1802. His personal life became increasingly tough during the following few years. Dorothy had a mental breakdown, his two children died and his brother drowned at sea. Around the turn of the century, his political beliefs shifted, and he became more conservative. He was disillusioned by events in France culminating in Napoleon Bonaparte taking power.
Wordsworth As a Nature Poet
Wordsworth was called by Shelly “Poet of nature”. He, too, called himself “A Worshiper of Nature”. He held a firm faith that nature could enlighten the kindheartedness and universal brotherhood of human being, and only existing in harmony with nature where man could get true happiness.
Wordsworth died on April 23, 1850, and was buried in the graveyard of Grasmere.