Preface

... I have seen A curious child applying to his ear

O mountain Stream! the Shepherd and his Cot,

"Following your example" (i.e. the example set in Reed's American edition of the Poems), "I have greatly extended the class entitled 'Poems of the Imagination,' thinking as you must have done that, if Imagination were predominant in the class, it was not indispensable that it should pervade every poem which it contained. Limiting the class as I had done before, seemed to imply, and to the uncandid or observing did so, that the faculty, which is the primum mobile in poetry, had little to do, in the estimation of the author, with pieces not arranged under that head. I therefore feel much obliged to you for suggesting by your practice the plan which I have adopted."

Ethereal Minstrel! Pilgrim of the sky! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still! To the last point of vision, and beyond, Mount, daring Warbler! that love-prompted strain, ('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond) Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain: Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing All independent of the leafy spring. Leave to the Nightingale her shady wood; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with rapture more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!

"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con,"

I stood, of simple shame the blushing Thrall; So narrow seemed the brooks, the fields so small,

To see the Trees, which I had thought so tall, Mere dwarfs; the Brooks so narrow, Fields so small.

In these lone vales, if aught of faith may claim, Thin silver hairs, and ancient hamlet fame; When up the hills, as now, retreats the light, Strange apparitions mock the village sight,

In these secluded vales, if village fame, Confirmed by hoary hairs, belief may claim; When up the hills, as now, retired the light, Strange apparitions mocked the shepherd's sight.

The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks.

That, barking busy 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where he points, the intercepted flocks;

But what to them avails the land Which he can till no longer?

But what avails the land to them, Which they can till no longer? "But what," saith he, "avails the land, Which I can till no longer? But what avails it now, the land Which he can till no longer? 'Tis his, but what avails the land Which he can till no longer? The time, alas! is come when he Can till the land no longer. The time is also come when he Can till the land no longer.

"Fox Ghyll, Ambleside, 4th October 1881. "I have been long intending to write you as to the manuscript notes and alterations in Wordsworth's poems, which you have had the opportunity of seeing, and, so far as you thought fit, of using for your edition. They came into my possession in this way. I saw them advertised in a catalogue which was sent me, and at my request the book was very courteously forwarded to me for my inspection. It appeared to me of sufficient interest and value to induce me to buy it; and I accordingly became the purchaser. "It is a copy of the edition in six volumes, the publication of which began in the year 1836; and of the volume containing the collected sonnets, which was afterwards printed uniformly with that edition. It appears to have been the copy which Wordsworth himself used for correcting, altering, and adding to the poems contained in it. As you have seen, in some of the poems the Alterations are very large, amounting sometimes to a complete rewriting of considerable passages. Many of these alterations have been printed in subsequent editions;

some have not; two or three small poems, as far as I know, have not been hitherto published. Much of the writing is Wordsworth's own; but perhaps the larger portion is the hand-writing of others, one or more, not familiar to me as Wordsworth's is. "How the volumes came to be sold I do not know.... Such as they are, and whatever be their interest or value, you are, as far as I am concerned, heartily welcome to them; and I shall be glad indeed if they add in the least degree to make your edition more worthy of the great man for whom my admiration grows every day I live, and my deep gratitude to whom will cease only with my life, and my reason."

"has not been confined to a particular walk or an individual place; a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the chains of fact and real circumstance. The country is idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects."13

"It was during a solitary walk on the banks of the Cam that I was first struck with this appearance, and applied it to my own feelings in the manner here expressed, changing the scene to the Thames, near Windsor";14

"To obviate some distraction in the minds of those who are well acquainted with Salisbury Plain, it may be proper to say, that of the features described as belonging to it, one or two are taken from other desolate parts of England."15

"pencil and note-book, and jots down whatever strikes him most," adding, "Nature does not permit an inventory to be made of her charms! He should have left his pencil and note-book at home; fixed his eye as he walked with a reverent attention on all that surrounded him, and taken all into a heart that could understand and enjoy. Afterwards he would have discovered that while much of what he had admired was preserved to him, much was also most wisely obliterated. That which remained, the picture surviving in his mind, would have presented the ideal and essential truth of the scene, and done so in large part by discarding much which, though in itself striking, was not characteristic. In every scene, many of the most brilliant details are but accidental."

in mute repose To lie, and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves,

the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream.

"In these days, when a great man's path to posterity is likely to be more and more crowded, there is a tendency to create an obstruction, in the desire to give an impulse. To gather about a man's work all the details that can be found out about it is, in my opinion, to put a drag upon it; and, as of the Works, so of the Life."

"I question whether by reading everything which he gives us, we are so likely to acquire an admiring sense, even of his variety and abundance, as by reading what he gives us at his happier moments. Receive him absolutely without omission and compromise, follow his whole outpouring, stanza by stanza, and line by line, from the very commencement to the very end, and he is capable of being tiresome."18

Among all lovely things my Love had been,

Wisdom and Spirit of the universe,

Fresh springs of green boxwood, not six months before.

Contents

Extract from the Conclusion of a Poem, composed in Anticipation of leaving School

Composed 1786.—Published 1815

"Of the Poems in this class, "The Evening Walk" and "Descriptive Sketches" were first published in 1793. They are reprinted with some unimportant alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication. It would have been easy to amend them, in many passages, both as to sentiment and expression, and I have not been altogether able to resist the temptation: but attempts of this kind are made at the risk of injuring those characteristic features, which, after all, will be regarded as the principal recommendation of juvenile poems."

"The above, which was written some time ago, scarcely applies to the Poem, 'Descriptive Sketches', as it now stands. The corrections, though numerous, are not, however, such as to prevent its retaining with propriety a place in the class of 'Juvenile Pieces.'"

"Dear native regions," etc., 1786, Hawkshead. The beautiful image with which this poem concludes suggested itself to me while I was resting in a boat along with my companions under the shade of a magnificent row of sycamores, which then extended their branches from the shore of the promontory upon which stands the ancient, and at that time the more picturesque, Hall of Coniston, the Seat of the Le Flemings from very early times. The Poem of which it was the conclusion, was of many hundred lines, and contained thoughts and images, most of which have been dispersed through my other writings.—I. F.

" .... I wrote, while yet a schoolboy, a long poem running upon my own adventures, and the scenery of the county in which I was brought up. The only part of that poem which has been preserved is the conclusion of it, which stands at the beginning of my collected Poems."A

while, in that shade Loitering, I watched the golden beams of light Flung from the setting sun, as they reposed In silent beauty on the naked ridge Of a high eastern hill—thus flowed my thoughts In a pure stream of words fresh from the heart:

The Poem

... shall

That, when the close of life draws near, And I must quit this earthly sphere, If in that hour a tender tie

Thus, when the Sun, prepared for rest, Hath gained the precincts of the West, Though his departing radiance fail To illuminate the hollow Vale,

Thus, from the precincts of the West, The Sun, when sinking down to rest,

... while sinking ...

Hath reached the precincts ...

A lingering lustre fondly throws

On the dear mountain-tops ...

Contents

Written in very Early Youth

Composed 1786A.—Published 1807B

The Poem

Whose stealing pace and lengthened shade we fear, Till torn-up forage in his teeth we hear.

Is up, and cropping yet ...

... seems ...

Contents

An Evening Walk

Composed 1787-9A—Published 1793

The young Lady to whom this was addressed was my Sister. It was composed at School, and during my first two College vacations. There is not an image in it which I have not observed; and, now in my seventy-third year, I recollect the time and place, when most of them were noticed. I will confine myself to one instance: Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale, Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,— The dog, loud barking, 'mid the glittering rocks, Hunts, where his master points, the intercepted flocks. I was an eye-witness of this for the first time while crossing the Pass of Dunmail Raise. Upon second thought, I will mention another image: And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines. This is feebly and imperfectly expressed, but I recollect distinctly the very spot where this first struck me. It was on the way between Hawkshead and Ambleside, and gave me extreme pleasure. The moment was important in my poetical history; for I date from it my consciousness of the infinite variety of natural appearances which had been

unnoticed by the poets of any age or country, so far as I was acquainted with them; and I made a resolution to supply in some degree the deficiency. I could not have been at that time above fourteen years of age. The description of the swans, that follows, was taken from the daily opportunities I had of observing their habits, not as confined to the gentleman's park, but in a state of nature. There were two pairs of them that divided the lake of Esthwaite, and its in-and-out flowing streams, between them, never trespassing a single yard upon each other's separate domain. They were of the old magnificent species, bearing in beauty and majesty about the same relation to the Thames swan which that does to the goose. It was from the remembrance of those noble creatures, I took, thirty years after, the picture of the swan which I have discarded from the poem of 'Dion'. While I was a schoolboy, the late Mr. Curwen introduced a little fleet of these birds, but of the inferior species, to the lake of Windermere. Their principal home was about his own island; but they

sailed about into remote parts of the lake, and either from real or imagined injury done to the adjoining fields, they were got rid of at the request of the farmers and proprietors, but to the great regret of all who had become attached to them from noticing their beauty and quiet habits. I will conclude my notice of this poem by observing that the plan of it has not been confined to a particular walk, or an individual place; a proof (of which I was unconscious at the time) of my unwillingness to submit the poetic spirit to the chains of fact and real circumstance. The country is idealised rather than described in any one of its local aspects.—I. F. cross-reference: return to Footnote A of The Idiot Boy

"They are reprinted with some unimportant alterations that were chiefly made very soon after their publication. It would have been easy to amend them, in many passages, both as to sentiment and expression, and I have not been altogether able to resist the temptation: but attempts of this kind are made at the risk of injuring those characteristic features, which, after all, will be regarded as the principal recommendation of juvenile poems."

"The above, which was written some time ago, scarcely applies to the Poem, Descriptive Sketches, as it now stands. The corrections, though numerous, are not, however, such as to prevent its retaining with propriety a place in the class of 'Juvenile Pieces.'"

"It was with great reluctance that I sent these two little works into the world in so imperfect a state. But as I had done nothing at the University, I thought these little things might show that I could do something."

'General Sketch of the Lakes— Author's regret of his Youth which was passed amongst them— Short description of Noon— Cascade— Noon-tide Retreat— Precipice and sloping Lights— Face of Nature as the Sun declines— Mountain-farm, and the Cock— Slate-quarry— Sunset— Superstition of the Country connected with that moment— Swans— Female Beggar— Twilight-sounds— Western Lights— Spirits— Night— Moonlight— Hope— Night-sounds— Conclusion'.

The Poem

His wizard course where hoary Derwent takes Thro' craggs, and forest glooms, and opening lakes, Staying his silent waves, to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore: Where silver rocks the savage prospect chear Of giant yews that frown on Rydale's mere; Where Derwent stops his course to hear the roar That stuns the tremulous cliffs ...

Where, bosom'd deep, the shy Winander peeps Where, deep embosom'd, shy Winander peeps

Fair scenes! with other eyes, than once, I gaze, The ever-varying charm your round displays, Than when, ere-while, I taught, "a happy child," The echoes of your rocks my carols wild: Then did no ebb of chearfulness demand Sad tides of joy from Melancholy's hand; Upon the varying charm your round displays,

... wild ...

... stars of night, Alike, when first the vales the bittern fills, Or the first woodcocks roam'd the moonlight hills. Alike, when heard the bittern's hollow bill, Or the first woodcocks roam'd the moonlight hill.

Return Delights! with whom my road begun, When Life rear'd laughing up her morning sun; When Transport kiss'd away my April tear, "Rocking as in a dream the tedious year"; When link'd with thoughtless Mirth I cours'd the plain,

For then, ev'n then, the little heart would beat

And wild Impatience, panting upward, show'd Where tipp'd with gold the mountain-summits glow'd.

With Hope Reflexion blends her social rays

While, Memory at my side, I wander here, Starts at the simplest sight th' unbidden tear, A form discover'd at the well-known seat, A spot, that angles at the riv'let's feet, The ray the cot of morning trav'ling nigh, And sail that glides the well-known alders by.

To shew her yet some joys to me remain,

... with soft affection's ear,

... with lights between; Gazing the tempting shades to them deny'd, When stood the shorten'd herds amid' the tide, Where, from the barren wall's unshelter'd end, Long rails into the shallow lake extend; When, at the barren wall's unsheltered end, Where long rails far into the lake extend, Crowded the shortened herds, and beat the tides With their quick tails, and lash'd their speckled sides;

And round the humming elm, a glimmering scene! In the brown park, in flocks, the troubl'd deer ... in herds, ...

When horses in the wall-girt intake stood, Unshaded, eying far below, the flood, Crouded behind the swain, in mute distress, With forward neck the closing gate to press; And long, with wistful gaze, his walk survey'd, 'Till dipp'd his pathway in the river shade;

—Then Quiet led me up the huddling rill, Bright'ning with water-breaks the sombrous gill; —Then, while I wandered up the huddling rill Brightening with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll, Then, while I wandered where the huddling rill Brightens with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll,

To where, while thick above the branches close, In dark-brown bason its wild waves repose, Inverted shrubs, and moss of darkest green, Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between; Save that, atop, the subtle sunbeams shine, On wither'd briars that o'er the craggs recline; Sole light admitted here, a small cascade, Illumes with sparkling foam the twilight shade. Beyond, along the visto of the brook, Where antique roots its bustling path o'erlook, The eye reposes on a secret bridge Half grey, half shagg'd with ivy to its ridge. —Sweet rill, farewel! ...

But see aloft the subtle sunbeams shine, On withered briars that o'er the crags recline; Thus beautiful! as if the sight displayed, By its own sparkling foam that small cascade; Inverted shrubs, with moss of gloomy green Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between. Inverted shrubs with pale wood weeds between Cling from the moss-grown rocks, a darksome green, Save where aloft the subtle sunbeams shine And its own twilight softens the whole scene. And sparkling as it foams a small cascade Illumines from within the impervious shade Below, right in the vista of the brook, Where antique roots, etc.

Sole light admitted here, a small cascade, Illumes with sparkling foam the impervious shade;

... path ...

Whence hangs, in the cool shade, the listless swain Lingering behind his disappearing wain.

—Sweet rill, ...

... and ...

And desert ...

How pleasant, as the yellowing sun declines, And with long rays and shades the landscape shines; To mark the birches' stems all golden light, That lit the dark slant woods with silvery white! The willow's weeping trees, that twinkling hoar, Glanc'd oft upturn'd along the breezy shore, Low bending o'er the colour'd water, fold Their moveless boughs and leaves like threads of gold; The skiffs with naked masts at anchor laid, Before the boat-house peeping thro' the shade; Th' unwearied glance of woodman's echo'd stroke; And curling from the trees the cottage smoke. Their pannier'd train ...

... zephyrs ...

And now the universal tides repose, And, brightly blue, the burnished mirror glows,

The sails are dropped, the poplar's foliage sleeps, And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deeps.

Shot, down the headlong pathway darts his sledge;

Beside their shelteringi cross of wall, the flock Feeds on in light, nor thinks of winter's shock;

Dashed down ...

... verdant ...

Gazed by ...

... his warrior head.

... haggard ...

Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro, Droops, and o'er canopies his regal brow,

... blows ...

Bright'ning the cliffs between where sombrous pine, And yew-trees ...

How busy the enormous hive within,

... with the ...

Some hardly heard their chissel's clinking sound,

... th' aëreal ...

... viewless ...

Glad from their airy baskets hang and sing.

Hung o'er a cloud, above the steep that rears

It's ...

And now it touches on the purple steep That flings his shadow on the pictur'd deep. That flings its image ... And now the sun has touched the purple steep Whose softened image penetrates the deep.

The coves ...