William Wordsworth's Life

Born on the 7th of April in 1770, William Wordsworth helped launch the Romanticism Era by writing major romantic poems. Wordsworth experienced a hard start to his life from a young age of eight when his mother died from an infection.  Following his mother’s death, he and his four siblings were sent to live with relatives.  Dorothy, one of his four siblings, also became a poet and influenced his work. She was a year younger then Wordsworth and they seemed to be the closest of the siblings despite the nine year period when they were separated during their later schooling. Wordsworth’s father who was a legal representative taught Wordsworth poetry from Milton, Shakespeare and Spenser. In Hawkshead Grammar School, Wordsworth developed a love of poetry which continued throughout college. After college he toured Europe on foot where he encountered the French Revolution. While he was in France he fell in love and had a relationship with Annette Vallon who gave birth to his first child, Caroline. During this time, Wordsworth’s experiences later prevailed in his poetry. 

Wordsworth’s first publication was in 1787 when he entered his sonnet in The European Magazine.  In 1793 Wordsworth's earliest poems "An Evening Walk" and "Descriptive Sketches" were published in an attempt to raise money. Wordsworth's natural poetic style reflects the work he did with Samuel Taylor Coleridge on the poetry collection “Lyrical Ballads.” Coleridge and Wordsworth bonded quickly and developed a strong friendship that would help their future work together. Some of the poems written by Wordsworth are"Tintern Abbey," "The Brothers," “Michael," "The Excursion," “The Thorn,” and "The Prelude." In all his poems the environment around him plays a roll.

In 1802 Wordsworth married Mary Hutchinson and they lived together in a cottage; his sister Dorothy lived with them. In 1812 the family experienced many tragedies that would change their lives forever.  In June their fourth child Catherine  died due to convulsions, and just 6 months later their third child Thomas died of pneumonia. The sonnet “Surprised by Joy” was about Catherine’s death. In 1847 his daughter Dora died from tuberculosis. On April 23rd, 1850 Wordsworth died due to pleurisy, an inflammation of the lung cavity. He lived over 80 years and wrote hundreds of striking poems during his life.

Wordsworth's Preface and "Lyrical Ballads"

   


First published in 1798, “Lyrical Ballads” started the romanticism period in literature. “Lyrical Ballads” is a collection of poems written by William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Wordsworth and Coleridge were able to bond quickly developing a strong friendship that would help them work together. Although Coleridge helped write many of the poems in Lyrical Ballads, he put most of his time into “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” his most well known poem. Meaning that Wordsworth ended up writing the majority of the poems.  Dorothy, Wordsworth’s sister, who was close to him at the time, influenced his poetry.  One of the main themes in “Lyrical Ballads” was that everything could be related to nature, and it was important to “return to the original state of nature.”

After the publishing of the “Lyrical Ballads” Wordsworth believed that a preface explaining his work was necessary. The second edition published in 1800 included more poems as well as the preface. In the “Preface to Lyrical Ballads”  Wordsworth believes that his poems are only experimental. Wordsworth’s preface consists of what he believed to be excellent poetry. 

Wordsworth claimed that poetry should be more natural and written with common speech rather then the previous “poetic” writing, and that emotions that are contained in memory should be expressed.  He wanted his poetry to be understandable by all readers and have language a common man could understand.  Coleridge, however, believed that a “poetic” type of writing  made the poet look more intelligent and that imagination  is what really made a poem excellent. Wordsworth on the other hand, believed that the priority of poetry should be to provide pleasure to the reader, by expressing feelings and emotions. 

Together they believed that poems should be “artful”, meaning the poems should be complex and make a reader think. In “Lyrical Ballads” Wordsworth makes it a priority to write about concepts and ideas that readers can easily relate to. When writing about nature, readers can easily relate because nature surrounds  uss. The 1798 edition “Lyrical Ballads” was made up of over 20 poems, only four 0f which were written by Coleridge.

Reviewing "William Blake's Art and Poetry"

The blog "William Blake's Art and Poetry" is a blog that I really liked. I like the layout of the blog and how it appears when you look at it, it's visually pleasing which makes it more interesting to look at. The artwork on the blog is one of my favorite things because it gives you something else to look at besides writing. There is also a lot of posts on this blog already, compared to the other ones which makes it good to read because there is more information. I loved Timmy's prose poem, "Sweet Summer" It was my favorite thing on the blog. It was about a boy and girl that fell in love and the boy couldn't believe that the girl could love someone like him. I thought his poem was great. It was also very relevant to the blog topic because William Blake is a romantic poet and the poem was written like a romantic poet. There were a lot of references to nature in his poem, "Sweet Summer." The blog does a good job covering Wordsworth topics, so therefore I think it is a pretty important blog and teaches a lot. For someone who knows nothing about romantic poetry, it would be a great blog to look at and they would get an idea that it has to do with nature. There is also another post on this blog about the poem "The Little Black Boy." It introduces the poem and them Timmy explains the meaning of it. This blog is important because it covers other poems besides the ones that were read in class. Nature is present in the poem "The Little Black Boy" because it's about an African boy that learns about God through his mother. God is another very big theme that Wordsworth covers in his poems. He believed that God is nature, so all his poems have God and nature in them. This blog is one of my favorites and it is definitely important and relevant to have. The poems that Timmy and Taylor wrote were great at portraying Romatic poetry. To view the blog click here.

Themes in "The Thorn"

There are many themes that can be found in William Wordsworth's "The Thorn." The poem is about a woman that spends almost all of her time weeping by a thorn because she lost her child. She was also in love with a man names Stephen, but he left her after she got pregnant. It says in the poem that no one knows how she lost her baby, but most people think she killed it. I don't believe that she killed her baby, because through all of her weeping, it shows how much she loved her baby. The poem takes us through stages of Martha's life to show us back when she was happy. The happiest time in the poem was when she was with Stephen. It talked about the love she had for him, but after she left all the happiness left too. After looking in depth at this poem, a deeper meaning comes out. Since Wordsworth was a romantic poet, we know that nature had a big part in this poem too. Martha sat next to this weeping, old, ugly thorn when she could have moved a couple feet and been in a beautiful, mossy hill. I think that the mossy hill was so beautiful to Martha because that is where her baby was burried. Another theme that this poem could have is being abandoned. Martha was in love with a man that she thought she would be with forever, but after she got pregnant he left and Martha was alone. It says in the poem that many people thought she killed her baby because she was so sad that Stephen left, and that could be possible, but if Martha was the one that killed the baby I don't think that she would feel the guilt that she felt. I think Wordsworth made the thorn so old and ugly to represent Martha's sadness. And he made the hill of moss so beautiful to represent her baby. This is how Wordsworth incorporated nature into this poem. In the end of the poem it says those who go up to the hill can hear the cries of Martha in the breeze. This is another way he put nature into the poem. All the characters in the poem were represented by nature somehow.

"The Thorn"

I.
There is a thorn; it looks so old,
In truth you'd find it hard to say,
How it could ever have been young,
It looks so old and grey.
Not higher than a two years' child
It stands erect this aged thorn;
No leaves it has, no thorny points;
It is a mass of knotted joints,
A wretched thing forlorn.
It stands erect, and like a stone
With lichens it is overgrown.

II.
Like rock or stone, it is o'ergrown
With lichens to the very top,
And hung with heavy tufts of moss,
A melancholy crop:
Up from the earth these mosses creep,
And this poor thorn! they clasp it round
So close, you'd say that they were bent
With plain and manifest intent,
To drag it to the ground;
And all had join'd in one endeavour
To bury this poor thorn for ever.

III.
High on a mountain's highest ridge,
Where oft the stormy winter gale
Cuts like a scythe, while through the clouds
It sweeps from vale to vale;
Not five yards from the mountain-path,
This thorn you on your left espy;
And to the left, three yards beyond,
You see a little muddy pond
Of water, never dry;
I've measured it from side to side:
'Tis three feet long, and two feet wide.

IV.
And close beside this aged thorn,
There is a fresh and lovely sight,
A beauteous heap, a hill of moss,
Just half a foot in height.
All lovely colours there you see,
All colours that were ever seen,
And mossy network too is there,
As if by hand of lady fair
The work had woven been,
And cups, the darlings of the eye,
So deep is their vermillion dye.

V.
Ah me! what lovely tints are there!
Of olive green and scarlet bright,
In spikes, in branches, and in stars,
Green, red, and pearly white.
This heap of earth o'ergrown with moss,
Which close beside the thorn you see,
So fresh in all its beauteous dyes,
Is like an infant's grave in size
As like as like can be:
But never, never any where,
An infant's grave was half so fair.

VI.
Now would you see this aged thorn,
This pond and beauteous hill of moss,
You must take care and chuse your time
The mountain when to cross.
For oft there sits, between the heap
That's like an infant's grave in size
And that same pond of which I spoke,
A woman in a scarlet cloak,
And to herself she cries,
"Oh misery! oh misery!
Oh woe is me! oh misery!"

VII.
At all times of the day and night
This wretched woman thither goes,
And she is known to every star,
And every wind that blows;
And there beside the thorn she sits
When the blue day-light's in the skies,
And when the whirlwind's on the hill,
Or frosty air is keen and still,
And to herself she cries,
"Oh misery! oh misery!
Oh woe is me! oh misery;"

VIII.
"Now wherefore thus, by day and night,
In rain, in tempest, and in snow
Thus to the dreary mountain-top
Does this poor woman go?
And why sits she beside the thorn
When the blue day-light's in the sky,
Or when the whirlwind's on the hill,
Or frosty air is keen and still,
And wherefore does she cry?--
Oh wherefore? wherefore? tell me why
Does she repeat that doleful cry?"

IX.
I cannot tell; I wish I could;
For the true reason no one knows,
But if you'd gladly view the spot,
The spot to which she goes;
The heap that's like an infant's grave,
The pond--and thorn, so old and grey.
Pass by her door--tis seldom shut--
And if you see her in her hut,
Then to the spot away!--
I never heard of such as dare
Approach the spot when she is there.

X.
"But wherefore to the mountain-top,
Can this unhappy woman go,
Whatever star is in the skies,
Whatever wind may blow?"
Nay rack your brain--'tis all in vain,
I'll tell you every thing I know;
But to the thorn and to the pond
Which is a little step beyond,
I wish that you would go:
Perhaps when you are at the place
You something of her tale may trace.

XI.
I'll give you the best help I can:
Before you up the mountain go,
Up to the dreary mountain-top,
I'll tell you all I know.
'Tis now some two and twenty years,
Since she (her name is Martha Ray)
Gave with a maiden's true good will
Her company to Stephen Hill;
And she was blithe and gay,
And she was happy, happy still
Whene'er she thought of Stephen Hill.

XII.
And they had fix'd the wedding-day,
The morning that must wed them both;
But Stephen to another maid
Had sworn another oath;
And with this other maid to church
Unthinking Stephen went--
Poor Martha! on that woful day
A cruel, cruel fire, they say,
Into her bones was sent:
It dried her body like a cinder,
And almost turn'd her brain to tinder.

XII.
They say, full six months after this,
While yet the summer leaves were green,
She to the mountain-top would go,
And there was often seen.
'Tis said, a child was in her womb,
As now to any eye was plain;
She was with child, and she was mad,
Yet often she was sober sad
From her exceeding pain.
Oh me! ten thousand times I'd rather,
That he had died, that cruel father!

XIV.
Sad case for such a brain to hold
Communion with a stirring child!
Sad case, as you may think, for one
Who had a brain so wild!
Last Christmas when we talked of this,
Old Farmer Simpson did maintain,
That in her womb the infant wrought
About its mother's heart, and brought
Her senses back again:
And when at last her time drew near,
Her looks were calm, her senses clear.

XV.
No more I know, I wish I did,
And I would tell it all to you;
For what became of this poor child
There's none that ever knew:
And if a child was born or no,
There's no one that could ever tell
And if 'twas born alive or dead,
There's no one knows, as I have said,
But some remember well,
That Martha Ray about this time
Would up the mountain often climb.

XVI.
And all that winter, when at night
The wind blew from the mountain-peak,
'Twas worth your while, though in the dark,
The church-yard path to seek:
For many a time and oft were heard
Cries coming from the mountain-head,
Some plainly living voices were,
And others, I've heard many swear,
Were voices of the dead:
I cannot think, whate'er they say,
They had to do with Martha Ray.

XVII.
But that she goes to this old thorn,
The thorn which I've described to you,
And there sits in a scarlet cloak,
I will be sworn is true.
For one day with my telescope,
To view the ocean wide and bright,
When to this country first I came,
Ere I had heard of Martha's name,
I climbed the mountain's height:
A storm came on, and I could see
No object higher than my knee.

XVIII.
'Twas mist and rain, and storm and rain,
No screen, no fence could I discover,
And then the wind! in faith, it was
A wind full ten times over.
Hooked around, I thought I saw
A jutting crag, and off I ran,
Head-foremost, through the driving rain,
The shelter of the crag to gain,
And, as I am a man,
Instead of jutting crag, I found
A woman seated on the ground.

XIX.
I did not speak--I saw her face,
In truth it was enough for me;
I turned about and heard her cry,
"O misery! O misery!"
And there she sits, until the moon
Through half the clear blue sky will go,
And when the little breezes make
The waters of the pond to shake,
As all the country know
She shudders, and you hear her cry,
"Oh misery! oh misery!"

XX.
"But what's the thorn? and what's the pond?
And what's the hill of moss to her?
And what's the creeping breeze that comes
The little pond to stir?"
I cannot tell; but some will say
She hanged her baby on the tree,
Some say she drowned it in the pond,
Which is a little step beyond,
But all and each agree,
The little babe was buried there,
Beneath that hill of moss so fair.

XXI.
I've heard, the moss is spotted red
With drops of that poor infant's blood;
But kill a new-born infant thus!
I do not think she could.
Some say, if to the pond you go,
And fix on it a steady view,
The shadow of a babe you trace,
A baby and a baby's face,
And that it looks at you;
Whene'er you look on it, 'tis plain
The baby looks at you again.

XXII.
And some had sworn an oath that she
Should be to public justice brought;
And for the little infant's bones
With spades they would have sought.
But then the beauteous bill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir;
And for full fifty yards around,
The grass it shook upon the ground;
But all do still aver
The little babe is buried there.
Beneath that hill of moss so fair.

XXIII.
I cannot tell how this may be,
But plain it is, the thorn is bound
With heavy tufts of moss, that strive
To drag it to the ground.
And this I know, full many a time,
When she was on the mountain high,
By day, and in the silent night;
When all the stars shone clear and bright,
That I have heard her cry,
"Oh misery! oh misery!
O woe is me! oh misery!"

Looking deeper at Wordsworth

The article that I read is called "Wordsworth's response to Darwin." This article was written by Robert M. Ryan and he explains the two different views of nature. The Wordsworth view of nature is a very religious one compared to Darwin's. He believes that God is nature and whatever happens, always happens because God wants it to. There is a passage in this article that says "Wordsworth rarely concerned himself with questions of the origin or history of creation." It also goes on to say "Nature, whose reality, benevolence, and moral intent he never doubted." This illustrates Wordsworth's view more because it talks about how he never questioned anything that happened in nature. He just saw it as God's doing. The other side of this article talked about Darwin's view of nature. Darwin came up with the theory natural selection which is where only the strongest and most adapt creatures are the ones that survive in nature. When Darwin came up with this theory many people were outraged because they always believed that God was nature. There has been many people through history that argue which view is the right one, but no one ever wins. Some people believe that natural selection is how nature works. And the more religious people believe that God is nature and no matter what anyone says they will always believe that. It's been a very long time since Wordsworth came up with his belief and still to this day, people believe him over Darwin. Even when Darwin's theory has been scientifically proven. I think people still believe this because they don't want to accept anything else. Wordsworth was the best poet of his time and was trusted and respected by many people, so nobody doubted him when he presented his view of nature to the world. This article emphasized how people still believe Wordsworth over Darwin. It starts out in the beginning by saying "Wordsworth's influence was still impeding acceptance of the Darwinian vision of nature." After that, it goes into the different views of the two men.