British Romantic Poets

William Wordsworth born April 7, 1770, in Cockermouth, Cumberland, to John and Anne (Cookson) Wordsworth, the second of their five children 1787 - went to St. John's College, Cambridge Went to France in 1791 (during French Revolution) Had affair with Annette Vallon, who had his child, Caroline

Wordsworth Ran out of money so returned to England. In 1794 - reunited with his sister Dorothy, “his companion, close friend, moral support, and housekeeper until her physical and mental decline in the 1830’s” met Samuel Taylor Coleridge met daily in 1797-98 to talk about poetry and to plan Lyrical Ballads, which came out in 1798 and began with Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner.

What about Annette and Caroline? Wordsworth Lake District William and Dorothy settled in a beautiful place called the Lake District What about Annette and Caroline? In 1802- returned to France with Dorothy and made acceptable financial agreement with Annette about Caroline. Married Mary Hutchinson and had five children. Devoted Brother Dorothy lived with William and Mary, and they cared for her for the last twenty years of her life.

Wordsworth “Romantic poets cultivated individualism, reverence for the natural world, idealism, physical and emotional passion, and an interest in the mystic and supernatural. Romantics set themselves in opposition to the order and rationality of classical and neoclassical artistic precepts to embrace freedom and revolution in their art and politics. German romantic poets included Fredrich Schiller and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and British poets such as William Wordsworth, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Percy Bysshe Shelley, George Gordon Lord Byron, and John Keats propelled the English Romantic movement.” – from poets.org

“The Lucy Poems” Series of five poems – “Strange Fits of Passion” and “She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways” are most well-known. Much speculation about who Lucy is Poems are from the point of view of a lover or someone who views a woman from afar and is greatly affected by her death Some scholars say the poems are about Mary Hutchinson, whom he eventually married; some say they are about his sister Dorothy.

Wordsworth’s Poetry Daffodils I wandered lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils; Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

“Daffodils,” continued The waves beside them danced; but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: A poet could not but be gay, In such a jocund company: I gazed--and gazed--but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought: For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils.

Dave Matthews and Wordsworth http://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/video/281

“The Tables Turned” Or surely you'll grow double: Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books; Or surely you'll grow double: Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; Why all this toil and trouble? 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 a dull and endless strife: Come, hear the woodland linnet, How sweet his music! on my life, There's more of wisdom in it. And hark! how blithe the throstle sings! He, too, 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 cheerfulness. 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 Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:— We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up those barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives.

“The World Is Too Much With US” The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers; Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers, For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.