The Prelude or Growth of a Poet's Mind: By William Wordsworth: Edited from the manuscripts with introduction, textual and critical notes by Ernest de Selincourt |
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 | The Prelude |  |
Rarely, and with reluctance, would I stoop
To transitory themes; yet I rejoice,
And, by these thoughts admonish'd, must speak out
Thanksgivings from my heart, that I was rear'd
Safe from an evil which these days have laid
Upon the Children of the Land, a pest
That might have dried me up, body and soul.
This Verse is dedicate to Nature's self,
And things that teach as Nature teaches, then
Oh where had been the Man, the Poet where?
Where had we been, we two, beloved Friend,
If we, in lieu of wandering, as we did,
Through heights and hollows, and bye-spots of tales
Rich with indigenous produce, open ground
Of Fancy, happy pastures rang'd at will!
Had been attended, follow'd, watch'd, and noos'd,
Each in his several melancholy walk
String'd like a poor man's Heifer, at its feed
Led through the lanes in forlorn servitude;
Or rather like a stalled ox shut out
From touch of growing grass; that may not taste
A flower till it have yielded up its sweets
A prelibation to the mower's scythe.
To transitory themes; yet I rejoice,
And, by these thoughts admonish'd, must speak out
Thanksgivings from my heart, that I was rear'd
Safe from an evil which these days have laid
Upon the Children of the Land, a pest
That might have dried me up, body and soul.
This Verse is dedicate to Nature's self,
And things that teach as Nature teaches, then
Oh where had been the Man, the Poet where?
Where had we been, we two, beloved Friend,
If we, in lieu of wandering, as we did,
Through heights and hollows, and bye-spots of tales
Rich with indigenous produce, open ground
Of Fancy, happy pastures rang'd at will!
Had been attended, follow'd, watch'd, and noos'd,
Each in his several melancholy walk
String'd like a poor man's Heifer, at its feed
Led through the lanes in forlorn servitude;
Or rather like a stalled ox shut out
148
A flower till it have yielded up its sweets
A prelibation to the mower's scythe.
| The Prelude | |