I have a chapter on William Wordsworth in my new
book:
Living
Imagination. Who Am I & What is Real?
Imagination! lifting up
itself
Before the eye and progress
of my Song
Like an unfather’d vapour;
here that Power,
In all the might of its
endowments, came
Athwart me; I was lost in a
cloud,
Halted, without a struggle to
break through.
And now recovering, to my
Soul I say
I recognize thy glory; in
such strength
Of usurpation, in such
visitings
Of awful promise, when the
light of sense
Goes out in flashes that have
shewn to us
The invisible world, doth
Greatness make abode,
There harbours whether we be
young or old.
The Prelude,
1805, Book VI (525-537)
0 comments:
Post a Comment