Biographical Sketch
William Wordsworth (1770-1850) was born in Cumberland, England. As a child, he spent a lot of time enjoying the outdoors and wandering through the countryside. He was in France in 1790, a year after the beginning of the French Revolution, and this event, along with the following war between England and France, had a profound impact on him. In 1798, he published the book Lyrical Ballads with Samuel Taylor Coleridge. This book attempted to make a break with the past, in that Wordsworth thought that poetry shouldn’t be ornate or stilted, but rather should be written with everyday language and should be about common experiences. He also believed that the poet should be able to deeply sense what is going on in the world of nature and should be able to express those feelings in his writing. Lyrical Ballads essentially opened the doors to the Romantic Period of poetry and Wordsworth became Poet Laureate in 1843.
The following poem was published in the book Romanticism: An Anthology: Second Edition (edited by Duncan Wu; published by Blackwell in 1998). After each stanza (in bold), I have included my paraphrase.
Lines Written in Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sat reclined
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
[I heard the birds singing while I lay back under some trees. But my good mood and happy thoughts became colored with sadness.]
To her fair works did nature link
The human soul that through me ran,
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
[My human soul was connected to the works of nature, and my heart wept to think about what man has done to man (his cruelty has caused many to suffer).]
Through primrose-tufts, in that sweet bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
[Through clusters of flowers in that leafy recess, the periwinkle flower grew. I believe that every flower appreciates the air it inhales.]
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the least motion which they made—
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
[I cannot grasp the thoughts of the birds that hopped and played around me, but they appeared to take pleasure in every movement.]
The budding twigs spread out their fan
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
[The budding branches put out new leaves to inhale the air, and I have to think that they enjoyed this activity.]
If I these thoughts may not prevent,
If such be of my creed the plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
[If I cannot keep myself from thinking these thoughts, and if, in agreement with my beliefs, nature is ordered this way, then don’t I have reason to be sad and mourn when I think of what man has done to man?]