Poetry: William Wordsworth - From Lyrical Ballads. With Other Poems. 1800. Vol. I. - Exposulation and Reply - The Tables Turned

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EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY.


“Why, William, on that old grey stone,
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
And dream your time away?”

“Where are your books? that light bequeath'd
To beings else forlorn and blind!
Up! Up! and drink the spirit breath'd
From dead men to their kind.”

“You look round on your mother earth,
As if she for no purpose bore you;
As if you were her first−born birth,
And none had lived before you!”

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,
When life was sweet, I knew not why,
To me my good friend Matthew spake,
And thus I made reply.

“The eye it cannot chuse but see,
We cannot bid the ear be still;
Our bodies feel, where'er they be,
Against, or with our will.”

“Nor less I deem that there are powers
Which of themselves our minds impress,
That we can feed this mind of ours
In a wise passiveness.”

“Think you, mid all this mighty sum
Of things for ever speaking,
That nothing of itself will come,
But we must still be seeking?”

”—Then ask not wherefore, here, alone,
Conversing as I may,
I sit upon this old grey stone,
And dream my time away.”




THE TABLES TURNED;

An Evening Scene, on the same Subject,


EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY.

Up! up! my friend, and clear your looks,
Why all this toil and trouble?
Up! up! my friend, and quit your books,
Or surely you'll grow double.

The sun, above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis dull and endless strife,
Come, here the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music; on my life
There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
And he is no mean preacher;
Come forth into the light of things,
Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
Our minds and hearts to bless—
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,
Truth breathed by chearfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man;
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mishapes the beauteous forms of things;
—We murder to dissect.

Enough of science and of art;
Close up these barren leaves;
Come forth, and bring with you a heart
That watches and receives.


From Lyrical Ballads, With Other Poems, 1800, Vol. I.








You have an alphabetical guide in the foot of the page in the blog: solitary dog sculptor
In the blog: Solitary Dog Sculptor I, the alphabetical guide is on the right side of the page
Thanks

Usted tiene una guía alfabética al pie de la página en el blog: solitary dog sculptor
En el blog: Solitary Dog Sculptor I, la guia alfabética está en el costado derecho de la página
Gracias




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