William Wordsworth. The immortality of his poems

William Wordsworth He was born on April 7, 1770, in Cockermouth. Fundamental name of the English preromanticism, He and l samuel coleridge are considered the best English poets of romanticism. At least they started the movement that was so widespread in Europe in the XNUMXth century. Today I choose 4 of his poems to celebrate the anniversary of his birth.

Their Lyrical ballads 

His most important work is this. The original title was Lyrical ballads, with some other poems. And it is a collection of poems published in 1798 together with his friend Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Divided into two volumes, it contains some of the texts most important of its production. The first edition featured four poems unpublished from Coleridge. One of them is his best known work: The old sailor's song. It was, by origin and in essence, the cornerstone of that romanticismo the one who gave way out. Its success was not much in those principles, but the subsequent impact would be decisive and influential.

These are four poems chosen from his extensive work: Ode to immortality, She was a ghost of delight, Surprised by the joy, and one of his Lucy poems.

Ode to immortality

Although the glow that
once was so bright
today be forever hidden from my eyes.

Although my eyes no longer
can you see that pure flash
That in my youth dazzled me

Although nothing can do
return the hour of splendor in the grass,
of the glory in the flowers,
we must not grieve
why beauty always subsists in the memory ...

In that first
sympathy that having
been once,
it will be forever
in the comforting thoughts
that sprouted from human suffering,
and in the faith that looks through the
death.

Thanks to the human heart,
by which we live,
thanks to their tenderness, their
joys and their fears, the humblest flower when it blooms,
can inspire me ideas that often
they show too deep
for tears.

She was a ghost of delight

She was a ghost of delight
when I first saw her,
before my eyes shining:
an adorable apparition sent;
to decorate an instant;
His eyes were like twilight stars
And from the sunset also his dark hair.
But all the rest of her
it came from spring and its joyous dawn;
a dancing form, a radiant image
to harass, startle and stalk.
I took a closer look at her: a spirit
But a woman too!
Light and ethereal their movements of home,
And his step was one of virginal freedom;
A countenance in which they contemplated
sweet memories, and promises too;
for daily food of being,
for fleeting pains, simple deceptions,
praise, reproach, love, kisses, tears, smiles.
Now I see with serene eyes
the same pulse of the machine;
a being breathing a meditated air,
a pilgrim between life and death,
firm reason, temperate will,
patience, foresight, strength and dexterity.
A perfect woman
nobly planned to warn,
to comfort, and order.
And still a spirit that glows
with some angelic light.

Surprised by the joy

Surprised by joy, impatient like the wind,
I turned to start my way back.
And with whom, except you,
buried deep within the silent sepulcher,
in that place that no vicissitude can disturb?
Love, faithful love, in my mind reminded you,
But how could I forget you Through what power,
even in the smallest division of an hour,
he has deceived me, made me blind, to my worst loss!
It was the worst pain that sadness ever carried,
Except for one, just one, when I felt destroyed
knowing that the unequaled treasure of my heart no longer existed;
that neither the present time, nor the unborn years,
they could bring that heavenly face back to my sight.

Lucy poems

Strange outbursts of passion I have known

Outbursts of passion I have known:
and I will dare to say it,
but only in the lover's ear,
what once happened to me.

When she loved me she perceived every day
fresh as the rose in June.
To his house I directed my steps,
under a moonlit night.

I fixed my eyes on the moon,
over the entire breadth of the meadow;
With a brisk step my horse approached
along those roads so dear to me.

And now we come to the garden;
And as we went up the hill
the moon was sinking into Lucy's cradle;
It came close, and closer still.

In one of those sweet dreams I fell asleep
A noble favor of the kind nature!
And meanwhile my eyes remained
over the fallen moon.

My horse passed; helmet to helmet
accelerated, and never stopped:
when it was placed under the roof of the house
immediately, the lunar glow dimmed.

What appreciations and capricious thoughts will pass
by the head of a lover!
Oh my God! I said and cried
If Lucy were dead!