Prelude

 The Prelude (1850) by William Wordsworth, 227 pages

...Thus I soothe

The pensive moments by this calm fire-side,

And find a thousand bounteous images

To cheer the thoughts of those I love, and mine.

The Prelude was intended by Wordsworth to be his autobiographical masterpiece.  Originally published in 1799 in two parts, it was expanded to fourteen books in 1805, and considerably revised before its final publication in 1850.  It was designed as the definitive statement of Wordsworth's sensibility, his pursuit of

That wish for something loftier, more adorned,

Than is the common aspect, daily garb,

Of human life.

Unfortunately, Wordsworth's passion led him to clasp the bloodstained hands of the French revolutionaries, and if he cannot disavow such friendships entirely, by 1850 he had at least gained the wisdom to criticize even his own excesses.

And thus, experience proving that no few

Of our opinions had been true, we took

Like credit to ourselves where less was due,

And thought that other notions were as sound,

Yea, could not but be right, because we saw

That foolish men opposed them.

While at the same time not rejecting the true instincts and education which nurtured those spiritual convictions.

Nature for all conditions wants not power

To consecrate, if we have eyes to see,

The outside of her creatures, and to breathe

Grandeur upon the very humblest face

Of human life.

And these deep feelings are best conveyed by the passages in which we enter into Wordsworth's relationship with the pastoral countryside of England.  However many times the poet's business takes him to Cambridge or London or Paris, there is always a tangible grace in the passages where he returns, in mind and body or in mind alone, to the nature that he loved.

There is no grief, no sorrow, no despair,

No languor, no dejection, no dismay,

No absence scarcely can there be, for those

Who love as we do.  Speed thee well!