Intuition, visceral attractions, immediacy – these are the goods of Wordsworth’s Romantic heart. He longs … for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may, Are yet the fountain light of all our day He longs for childhood – but not for the sheer delight or the unconstrained liberty. And unlike modern materialists, Wordsworth doesn’t think human conventions are any kind of opiate. Rather, he feels some trepidation about this situation. Unlike the Greek Cynics and the Nietzschean modernists, though, Wordsworth is not looking to flaunt this in people’s faces. It would appear that Wordsworth is an old-fashioned Cynic, staring baldly at man-made conventions. The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: notindeed For that which is most worthy to be blest: Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest … But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things … Moving about in worlds not realized, High instincts, before which our mortal nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised It is a longing for a perceived freedom we no longer have, and a delight we find hard to experience so directly.Īnd this is exactly where Wordsworth goes deeper. That is, regardless of whether the “golden age” depiction is correct, its reference to the present is one way to express the feeling of disconnect between one’s ideals and desires, versus the present reality.Īnd all the more with our childhood! How easy is it to fall into conversations that amount to “Remember Saved by the Bell?” and “My Mom used to put little notes in my lunchbag, too!”? Now, this kind of longing is hard to distinguish from whining. More than a psychological justification for moaning, this view of the past can also be seen as an articulation of the soul’s longing. It is easy to bedeck the past with glittery ornamentation, seeing the best in an epoch lost – thereby highlighting in the present calamity, immorality, or ennui. The “Ode” is strongly Platonist, with repeated invocations of Immortality and a moving panegyric on the pre-existence of the soul. Wordsworth, though, has a different conclusion, and a different philosophy, than you might expect. The poet’s longing seems characteristic of his Romantic age: the vernal imagery, the ideal of youthfulness, the worship of innocent delight. William Wordsworth opened thus his “Ode: Intimations of Immortality.” “There was a time” as a child when the world’s wonder glistened on his face, but he “can see no more.” He later says that, while he can now see delightful moons and rainbows, “there hath passed away a glory from the earth.” There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light … It is not now as it hath been in days of yore … The things which I have seen I now can see no more.
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