Tiny green shoots of daffodils are beginning to emerge in my garden! And I saw some crocuses!
It triggered memories of swathes of daffodils in early Spring in England and my thoughts turned to William Wordsworth, whose poetry I love.
Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold
Is full of blessings.
By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).
[Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey,
On Revisiting The Banks Of The Wye River
During A Tour. July 13, 1798.]
William Hazlitt, English writer, essayist, and philosopher, said of Wordsworth:
"His style is vernacular: he delivers household truths.” Hazlitt explained that Wordsworth had faith in “the healing power of plants and herbs and 'sky influences' . . . his poetry is founded on setting up an opposition . . . between the natural and the artificial . . ." and we know that such tensions between opposites should cause us to pay attention and reflect on deeper meanings.
Also, he felt that reading Wordsworth’s poetry would "teach the young and the gracious of every age to see, to think, and feel . . ." To be sure, I well remember what reading Wordsworth’s poetry in my teens did for me, and I sigh that great poetry is not widely read by young people today.
_________________________________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment