Nay, Boy, be of good hope: — we both may live
To see a better day. At eighty-four
I still am strong and stout; — do thou thy part,
I will do mine. — I will begin again
With many tasks that were resign’d to thee;
Up to the heights, and in among the storms,
Will I without thee go again, and do
All works which I was wont to do alone,
Before I knew thy face. — Heaven bless thee, Boy!
Thy heart these two weeks has been beating fast
With many hopes — it should be so — yes — yes —
I knew that thou could’st never have a wish
To leave me, Luke, thou hast been bound to me
Only by links of love, when thou art gone
What will be left to us! — But, I forget
My purposes. Lay now the corner-stone,
As I requested, and hereafter, Luke,
When thou art gone away, should evil men
Be thy companions, let this Sheep-fold be
Thy anchor and thy shield; amid all fear
And all temptation, let it be to thee
An emblem of the life thy Fathers liv’d,
Who, being innocent, did for that cause
Bestir them in good deeds. Now, fare thee well —
When thou return’st, thou in this place wilt see
A work which is not here, a covenant
’Twill be between us — but whatever fate
Befall thee, I shall love thee to the last,
And bear thy memory with me to the grave.
The Shepherd ended here; and Luke stoop’d down,
And as his Father had requested, laid
The first stone of the Sheep-fold; at the sight
The Old Man’s grief broke from him, to his heart
He press’d his Son, he kissed him and wept;
And to the House together they return’d.
Next morning, as had been resolv’d, the Boy
Began his journey, and when he had reach’d
The public Way, he put on a bold face;
And all the Neighbours as he pass’d their doors
Came forth, with wishes and with farewell pray’rs,
That follow’d him ‘till he was out of sight.
A good report did from their Kinsman come,
Of Luke and his well-doing; and the Boy
Wrote loving letters, full of wond’rous news,
Which, as the House-wife phrased it, were throughout
The prettiest letters that were ever seen.
Both parents read them with rejoicing hearts.
So, many months pass’d on: and once again
The Shepherd went about his daily work
With confident and cheerful thoughts; and now
Sometimes when he could find a leisure hour
He to that valley took his way, and there
Wrought at the Sheep-fold. Meantime Luke began
To slacken in his duty, and at length
He in the dissolute city gave himself
To evil courses: ignominy and shame
Fell on him, so that he was driven at last
To seek a hiding-place beyond the seas.
There is a comfort in the strength of love;
’Twill make a thing endurable, which else
Would break the heart: — Old Michael found it so.
I have convers’d with more than one who well
Remember the Old Man, and what he was
Years after he had heard this heavy news.
His bodily frame had been from youth to age
Of an unusual strength. Among the rocks
He went, and still look’d up upon the sun.
And listen’d to the wind; and as before
Perform’d all kinds of labour for his Sheep,
And for the land his small inheritance.
And to that hollow Dell from time to time
Did he repair, to build the Fold of which
His flock had need. ‘Tis not forgotten yet
The pity which was then in every heart
For the Old Man — ands ‘tis believ’d by all
That many and many a day he thither went,
And never lifted up a single stone.
There, by the Sheep-fold, sometimes was he seen
Sitting alone, with that his faithful Dog,
Then old, beside him, lying at his feet.
The length of full seven years from time to time
He at the building of this Sheep-fold wrought,
And left the work unfinished when he died.
Three years, or little more, did Isabel,
Survive her Husband: at her death the estate
Was sold, and went into a Stranger’s hand.
The Cottage which was nam’d The Evening Star
Is gone, the ploughshare has been through the ground
On which it stood; great changes have been wrought
In all the neighbourhood, yet the Oak is left
That grew beside their Door; and the remains
Of the unfinished Sheep-fold may be seen
Beside the boisterous brook of Green-head Gill.
POEMS, IN TWO VOLUMES
In 1802 Wordsworth received money owed to his father and he was financially secure enough to marry Mary Hutchinson, an old childhood friend. Mary, William, and his sister Dorothy lived together in the village of Grasmere, in the Lake District.
Wordsworth then released the following poetry collection in 1807, containing what would later become some of his most celebrated works. Nevertheless, Poems, in Two Volumes received negative criticism at the time, with Lord Byron complaining that, “Mr. W. ceases to please... clothing his ideas in language not simple, but puerile”. Wordsworth wrote to his friend Wrangham to prevent a known enemy from writing a negative review in The Critical Review, but more criticism followed instead. Even Wordsworth’s close friend Coleridge said that some of the poems contained “mental bombast”. Wordsworth took the reviews stoically, expecting to receive such criticism due to the originality and non-conformity of his poetry.
Following this period, Wordsworth’s happy home life turned to tragedy when two of his four children died within a year. Soon after, Wordsworth was appointed Distributor of Stamps for Westmorland, which brought him enough money to continue writing. Although his poems were often criticised, they were gaining a wide popular readership. In the absence of success for his poems, Wordsworth turned to travel writing, publishing a travel guide to the Lake District, which was very popular.
The collection Poems, in Two Volumes features Wordsworth’s most enduring poem, which has since become one of the most famous poems in the English language. I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud was inspired by a walk on April 15, 1802 around Glencoyne Bay, Ullswater, when Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy came across a “long belt” of daffodils. There are two versions of the poem, the 1807 version and a revised 1815 version, in which the poet added a new stanza between the first and second stanzas, whilst leaving the last stanza untouched. The poem was composed in six-line stanzas with an ababcc rhyme scheme in tetrameters. At the end of the poem, Wordsworth famously stresses how important the scene of daffodils was to him at a later time, when:
”They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude…”
The concept that the beauty of nature can give pleasure to the mind at a time when we are unable to see and appreciate the natural world in situ, demonstrates the poem’s power to replicate a beautiful scene in the reader’s mind.
The original title page
Mary Wordsworth, the poet’s wife
CONTENTS
VOLUME I
TO THE DAISY
LOUISA
FIDELITY
SHE WAS A PHANTOM OF DELIGHT
THE REDBREAST AND THE BUTTERFLY
THE SAILOR’S MOTHER
TO THE SMALL CELANDINE
&n
bsp; TO THE SAME FLOWER
CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR
THE HORN OF EGREMONT CASTLE
THE AFFLICTION of MARGARET — — OF — —
THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES
THE SEVEN SISTERS, OR THE SOLITUDE OF BINNORIE
SIX YEARS OLD
AMONG ALL LOVELY THINGS MY LOVE HAD BEEN
I TRAVELL’D AMONG UNKNOWN MEN
ODE TO DUTY
POEMS COMPOSED DURING A TOUR, CHIEFLY ON FOOT.
BEGGARS
TO A SKY-LARK
WITH HOW SAD STEPS, O MOON, THOU CLIMB’ST THE SKY
ALICE FELL
RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE
SONNETS.
PREFATORY SONNET
MISCELLANEOUS SONNETS
COMPOSED AFTER A JOURNEY ACROSS THE HAMILTON HILLS, YORKSHIRE
THEY ARE OF THE SKY
TO SLEEP
TO SLEEP
TO SLEEP
WITH SHIPS THE SEA WAS SPRINKLED FAR AND NIGH
TO THE RIVER DUDDON
FROM THE ITALIAN OF MICHAEL ANGELO
FROM THE SAME
TO THE SUPREME BEING
CALM IS ALL NATURE AS A RESTING WHEEL
COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE
BELOVED VALE!
METHOUGHT I SAW THE FOOTSTEPS OF A THRONE
TO THE — —
THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US; LATE AND SOON
IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING, CALM AND FREE
TO THE MEMORY OF RAISLEY CALVERT
DEDICATED TO LIBERTY
IS IT A REED THAT’S SHAKEN BY THE WIND
TO A FRIEND, COMPOSED NEAR CALAIS
I GRIEV’D FOR BUONAPARTE, WITH A VAIN
FESTIVALS HAVE I SEEN THAT WERE NOT NAMES
ON THE EXTINCTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIC
THE KING OF SWEDEN
TO TOUSSAINT L’OUVERTURE
WE HAD A FELLOW-PASSENGER WHO CAME
DEAR FELLOW TRAVELLER! HERE WE ARE ONCE MORE
INLAND, WITHIN A HOLLOW VALE, I STOOD
THOUGHT OF A BRITON ON THE SUBJUGATION OF SWITZERLAND
O FRIEND! I KNOW NOT WHICH WAY I MUST LOOK
MILTON! THOU SHOULD’ST BE LIVING AT THIS HOUR
GREAT MEN HAVE BEEN AMONG US
IT IS NOT TO BE THOUGHT OF THAT THE FLOOD
WHEN I HAVE BORNE IN MEMORY WHAT HAS TAMED
ONE MIGHT BELIEVE THAT NATURAL MISERIES
THERE IS A BONDAGE WHICH IS WORSE TO BEAR
THESE TIMES TOUCH MONEY’D WORLDLINGS WITH DISMAY
ENGLAND! THE TIME IS COME WHEN THOU SHOULDST WEAN
WHEN, LOOKING ON THE PRESENT FACE OF THINGS
TO THE MEN OF KENT
SIX THOUSAND VETERANS PRACTIS’D IN WAR’S GAME
ANTICIPATION
ANOTHER YEAR! — ANOTHER DEADLY BLOW
VOLUME II
ROB ROY’S GRAVE
THE SOLITARY REAPER
STEPPING WESTWARD
GLEN-ALMAIN OR THE NARROW GLEN
THE MATRON OF JEDBOROUGH AND HER HUSBAND
TO A HIGHLAND GIRL
SONNET: DEGENERATE DOUGLAS! OH, THE UNWORTHY LORD!
ADDRESS TO THE SONS OF BURNS
YARROW UNVISITED
MOODS OF MY OWN MIND.
TO A BUTTERFLY
THE SUN HAS LONG BEEN SET
O NIGHTINGALE! THOU SURELY ART
MY HEART LEAPS UP WHEN I BEHOLD
THE COCK IS CROWING
THE SMALL CELANDINE
I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD
WHO FANCIED WHAT A PRETTY SIGHT
THE SPARROW’S NEST
GIPSIES
TO THE CUCKOO
TO A BUTTERFLY
IT IS NO SPIRIT WHO FROM HEAVEN HATH FLOWN
THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY; WITH OTHER POEMS.
THE BLIND HIGHLAND BOY
THE GREEN LINNET
TO A YOUNG LADY
STAR GAZERS
POWER OF MUSIC
TO THE DAISY
TO THE SAME FLOWER
INCIDENT CHARACTERISTIC OF A FAVOURITE DOG, WHICH BELONGED TO A FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR
TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF THE SAME DOG
SONNET: ADMONITION
SONNET. THOUGH NARROW BE THAT OLD MAN’S CARES
SONNET. HIGH DEEDS, O GERMANS, ARE TO COME FROM YOU!
SONNET: CLARKSON! IT WAS AN OBSTINATE HILL TO CLIMB
FORESIGHT
A COMPLAINT
TO THE SPADE OF A FRIEND, (AN AGRICULTURIST.)
SONG, AT THE FEAST OF BROUGHAM CASTLE
LINES, COMPOSED AT GRASMERE DURING A WALK, ONE EVENING, AFTER A STORMY DAY
ELEGIAC STANZAS SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF PEELE CASTLE, IN A STORM, PAINTED BY SIR GEORGE BEAUMONT
ODE
The handwritten manuscript of ‘ I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud’
‘Ullswater from Gobarrow Park’ by J. M. W. Turner, 1819 — the setting of Wordsworth’s most famous poem
Glencoyne Bay, today
VOLUME I
TO THE DAISY
In youth from rock to rock I went
From hill to hill, in discontent
Of pleasure high and turbulent,
Most pleas’d 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!
When soothed a while by milder airs,
Thee Winter in the garland wears 10
That thinly shades his few grey hairs;
Spring cannot shun 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;
If welcome once thou count’st it gain;
Thou art not daunted, 20
Nor car’st if thou be set at naught;
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 chuse;
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; 30
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,
Imprison’d by hot sunshine lie
Near the green holly,
And wearily at length should fare;
He need but look about, and there
Thou art! a Friend at hand, to scare
His melancholy. 40
A hundred times, by rock or bower,
Ere thus I have lain couch’d 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, 50
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.
When, smitten by the morning ray,
I see thee rise alert and gay,
Then, chearful Flower! my spirits play
With kindred motion: 60
At dusk, I’ve seldom mark’d thee press
The ground, as if in thankfulness,
Without some feeling, more or less,
Of true devotion.
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, 70
Coming one knows not how nor whence,
Nor whither going.
Child of the Year! that round dost run
Thy course, bold lover of the sun,
And chearful when the day’s begun
As morning Leveret,
Thou long the Poet’s praise shalt gain;
Thou wilt be more belov’d by men
In times to come; thou not in vain
Art Nature’s Favorite. 80
LOUISA
I met Louisa in the shade;
And, having seen that lovely Maid,
Why should I fear to say
That she is ruddy, fleet, and strong;
And down the rocks can leap along,
Like rivulets in May?
And she hath smiles to earth unknown;
Smiles, that with motion of their own
Do spread, and sink, and rise;
That come and go with endless play, 10
And ever, as they pass away,
Are hidden in her eyes.
She loves her fire, her Cottage-home;
Yet o’er the moorland will she roam
In weather rough and bleak;
And when against the wind she strains,
Oh! might I kiss the mountain rains
That sparkle on her cheek.
Take all that’s mine ‘beneath the moon’,
If I with her but half a noon 20
May sit beneath the walls
Of some old cave, or mossy nook,
When up she winds along the brook,
To hunt the waterfalls.
FIDELITY
A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a Dog or Fox;
He halts, and searches with his eyes
Among the scatter’d rocks:
And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
From which immediately leaps out
A Dog, and yelping runs about.
The Dog is not of mountain breed;
It’s motions, too, are wild and shy; 10
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its’ cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in Hollow or on Height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
What is the Creature doing here?
It was a Cove, a huge Recess,
Delphi Complete Works of William Wordsworth Page 41