Passing through a thrift store in Michigan I picked up this old 1963 Enlgand in Literature textbook. I find myself appreciating the lyrics of Wordsworth as he "creates beauty from simple and commonplace things." As the text describes, he was "a thrifty, retentive, and vigorously active mind, firmly anchored in the actual and familiar."
One poem really struck me with delight:
| 382. To the Skylark |
| William Wordsworth (1770–1850) |
| 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, | 5 |
| 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: | 10 |
| 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 | 15 |
| Of harmony, with instinct more divine; | |
| Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam— | |
| True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home. | |
What's profound about his poetry appears that the simple soon transforms into great substance of reflection and enlightenment.
