English Poetry II: From Collins to Fitzgerald.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
William Wordsworth
369. Nature and the Poet
Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm, painted by Sir George BeaumontI
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
So like, so very like, was day to day!
Whene’er I look’d, thy image still was there;
It trembled, but it never pass’d away.
No mood, which season takes away, or brings:
I could have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle things.
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam,
The light that never was on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet’s dream.—
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the moving tide, a breeze,
Or merely silent Nature’s breathing life.
Such picture would I at that time have made;
And seen the soul of truth in every part,
A steadfast peace that might not be betray’d.
I have submitted to a new control:
A power is gone, which nothing can restore;
A deep distress hath humanized my soul.
A smiling sea, and be what I have been:
The feeling of my loss will ne’er be old;
This, which I know, I speak with mind serene.
If he had lived, of him whom I deplore,
This work of thine I blame not, but commend;
This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.
Well chosen is the spirit that is here;
That hulk which labours in the deadly swell,
This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!
I love to see the look with which it braves,
—Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time—
The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.
Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be known
Is to be pitied; for ’tis surely blind.
And frequent sights of what is to be borne!
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here:—
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.