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(1770-1850 / Cumberland / England)

Comments about William Wordsworth

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  • Anup Kumar Gupta (1/29/2012 11:23:00 AM)

    Wordsworth was a great nature poet as well as high priset of nature.

    303 person liked.
    135 person did not like.
  • Arthur Tugman (11/5/2011 4:34:00 PM)

    The child is farthest from the truth
    that yens to outgrow its youth.
    - Arthur Tugman

  • Subrata Ray (2/18/2010 8:06:00 AM)

    Wordsworth is not a visionary poet.He lacks the overseeing power of Blake, and exuberance of Shelley's imagination.He is a poet without tradition and self-devoted-labor.
    His hubris is his mind-born theory of poetic creativity as expounded in The Lyrical Ballads.What his spirit-brother Col ridges criticizes comes every -inch true .
    To the average readers he excels, and even the trained and thoughtful minds of literature at their first reading get enamored.This is because of his power of installing justified words and phrases.Moreover, both in riming verse and blank-verse, his art is next to perfection.
    But a true poet is a seer.Here Wordsworth leaves a self-betrayal. His Tin tern Abbey and Intimation Ode, are nothing but fermentation of morbid -emotion.For the poet in reality neither experienced 'Samadhi' or th estate of oneness with the Ultimate -reality or Divinity, and nor could feel the truth that in childhood the instincts remain hidden in the cells.
    His shorter poems like The Daffodils, and The Solitary Reaper, appear packed with relieving ideas.But how can we memorizes the contact of a good-man or a sight of a beauty, when we are only the profit -hunter of our emotional relief? .
    In my childhood innocence I was a fan to Blake and Wordsworth.But now in growing adulthood I earnestly desire to be a child to the station of Blake's The Lamb.In the truest reality, now Wordsworth seems not readable.He is full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
    Subrata Ray.Mousumipara.Uluberia.West Bengal.India.

  • Tanushree Sarkar (2/3/2010 12:44:00 AM)

    This poem speaks about my life..........

  • Sugu Maran (1/26/2010 2:22:00 AM)

    Wordsworth - a man who absolutely picturised mother nature through his fine words and adored the nature unto the lease. Made the mortals to adore. Poet is still living in every lines of his poetry.
    Community called Pagans, Nature Lovers, are becoming no more nowadays.but this should change
    Everyone should treat nature as equal to mankind and to grow with it.

  • Vandavasu Vittal (8/14/2009 1:06:00 AM)

    You enchant nature with life and woe with bliss. Thine strife is never undo till dear Coleridge died your source of inspiration. your poetry is charming like the flying doves. You are the poetical genius with incessant clout of emotions on paper.

  • p.a. noushad (5/23/2009 6:34:00 AM)

    i feel deep within a bliss of imagination which flies high with your verses.

  • Aiswarya. T.anish (4/18/2009 10:42:00 AM)

    I worship you. Your poems are sooooo beautiful. I love Daffodils. I got first prize in the Recitation competition in school after I recited this poem. You are a master of poetry.

  • Sonya Florentino (12/7/2008 10:51:00 AM)

    I don't understand how people can not like this poem. The only reason I can think of is that they haven't experienced true bliss.. which I think is what this poem is about... bliss that you never forget, which you can always come back to and feel with the same power as when you first experienced it....spiritual bliss. When I read this poem again as an adult, by the time I got to the last two lines, I was crying because he really touched on something so profound.

  • p.a. noushad (6/14/2008 1:04:00 AM)

    your poems touch the beauty of nature, nature protects us, nature helps us, nature teaches, nature inspires, as a bliss in the solitude.beautiful creations.

The Sparrow's Nest

BEHOLD, within the leafy shade,
Those bright blue eggs together laid!
On me the chance-discovered sight
Gleamed like a vision of delight.
I started---seeming to espy
The home and sheltered bed,
The Sparrow's dwelling, which, hard by
My Father' house, in wet or dry
My sister Emmeline and I

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