The Ministry of Higher Education and Research in Tunisia

The Higher Institute of Languages in Gabes

The Department of English

Second Years Poetry Semester 1

British Romantic Poetry: First Generation
A Booklet Compiled by: Mr Mondher Youssfi

University Years: 2023-2025

Course Description & Objectives:
‘British Romantic Poetry’ is a 1-semester course designed to meet the needs of second year
students in the field of Poetry. This course will explore the works of the major figures from
the first generation of British Romantic poets, including William Blake, William Wordsworth,
and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Students will be introduced to the major aspects of this pivotal
literary period through an anthology of milestone poems. These will be examined in their
philosophical, historical, socio-political, and literary contexts so as to discuss their themes,
styles, and influences in classroom and home, individual, pair, and group assignments both in
written and oral forms.
The official assignment of this course will be a choice of a topic and a text analysis for a
1-hour Mid-term and/or a 2-Hour End-of-Term Exam.
By the end of this course, students are expected to be able to:
Place the work of these poets in the contexts of the Romantic Movement.
Identify the key formal and thematic characteristics of Romantic poetry.
Contrast the themes and styles of the first generation of British Romantic poets with
Metaphysical poetry.
Course Outline:
Week 1: Introduction to the Romantic Movement (History/Philosophy/Characteristics)
Weeks 2-5: William Blake
Weeks 6-9: William Wordsworth
Weeks 10-13: Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Week 14: Revision = Writing an argumentative essay

Grading:
Attendance,participation, and weekly and/or year-long oral/written productions: 10%
Mid-term Exam: 30%
Final exam: 60%
Bibliography:
Bloom, Harold. The Visionary Company: A Reading of English Romantic Poetry. New York:
Doubleday, 1965.
Butler, Marilyn. Romantics, Rebels and Reactionaries: English Literature and Its Background,
1760-1830. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981.
Eagleton, Terry. The Romantics. Oxford: Blackwell, 1990.
Fiedler, Leslie A. Love and Death in the American Novel. New York: Criterion Books, 1960.
Hilton, Timothy. The English Romantic Poets. New York: Wiley-Blackwell, 2006.
McGann, Jerome J. The Romantic Ideology: A Critical Investigation. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1983.
Prickett, Stephen. Romanticism and Religion: The Tradition of Coleridge and Wordsworth.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976.
Rajan, Tilottama. The Romantics and the Wordsworthian Sublime. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1985.
Shaw, Philip. The Sublime: A Very Short Introduction. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2006.
Todd, Janet. Sensibility: An Introduction. London: Methuen, 1986.

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 Introduction: Romantic Poetry as a reaction towards Metaphysical Poetry
Metaphysical poetry, a profound literary movement that blossomed in 17th century
England, is defined by its intricate exploration of abstract themes through intellectual
wordplay and paradoxical metaphors. This poetic style challenges conventional norms,
merging the realms of reason and emotion to create thought-provoking verse. Key figures in
this movement include John Donne, George Herbert, and Andrew Marvell, whose works
exemplify the distinct formal and thematic qualities of Metaphysical poetry.
Indeed, John Donne, often hailed as the progenitor of Metaphysical poetry, engaged
with multifaceted themes such as love, spirituality, and mortality. His poem "A Valediction:
Forbidding Mourning" employs a compass as a conceit, symbolising a harmonious and
enduring love that transcends the physical separation by virtue of human intellect under the
influence of the Rationalist school of philosophy. In this poem, Donne writes, "If they be two,
they are two so / As stiff twin compasses are two; / Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show /
To move, but doth, if th' other do."
Furthermore, George Herbert's poetry, steeped in religious devotion, possesses a
profound spiritual intensity. His poem "The Collar" delves into the theoretical tension
between human desires and divine calling. Herbert writes, "I struck the board, and cried, 'No
more; / I will abroad!' What? shall I ever sigh and pine? / My lines and life are free; free as
the road, / Loose as the wind, as large as store."
Moreover, Andrew Marvell introduced political and societal commentary into
Metaphysical poetry. In "To His Coy Mistress," Marvell's speaker employs vivid metaphors
to persuade his beloved to embrace the present moment. He writes, "Let us roll all our
strength and all / Our sweetness up into one ball, / And tear our pleasures with rough strife /
Through the iron gates of life."
Metaphysical poets are known for their fusion of logical exploration and emotional
depth, creating verses that invite readers to engage in profound contemplation. The mastery of
conceits, extended metaphors that link seemingly disparate ideas, exemplifies this style's
complexity. These poets were unafraid to interweave profound philosophical concepts with
everyday experiences to foreground the human faculty of Reason.
Metaphysical poetry's enduring influence can be seen in its impact on subsequent
generations of poets, namely both generations of Romantic poetry in England. It shaped the
development of both intellectual and emotional dimensions in poetry, expanding the
boundaries of language to articulate the intricacies of human existence. This movement serves
as a testament to the power of language, demonstrating its ability to navigate the profound
complexities of life, love, and spirituality from a logical perspective.
As such, it is no accident that the subsequent Romantic poets shall stress the status of
human feelings as the major definition of human beings as well as their existential
experiences. This anthropological shift has decidedly affected Romantic poets’ use of
language, sound effects and imagery. This use was characterised by the quest of nature and
simplicity.

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 William Blake
William Blake was born in 28a Broad Street, Golden Square, London on 28 November 1757,
to a middle-class family. His father, James, was a hosier. The Blakes were Dissenters of the
Moravian sect. Indeed, the Bible was profound influence on him.
He began engraving copies of drawings of Greek antiquities purchased for him by his father.
His first exposure to classical forms was through the work of Raphael, Michelangelo, Marten
Heemskerk and Albrecht Dürer.
His parents chose not to send him to school but he was instead enrolled in drawing classes. He
read freely and avidly and was also exploring the poetry of Ben Jonson and Edmund Spenser.
From a young age, he claimed to have seen visions. The earliest instance occurred at the age
of about eight or ten in Peckham Rye, London, when he reported seeing a tree filled with
angels "bespangling every bough like stars." On another occasion, Blake watched hay-
makers at work, and thought he saw angelic figures walking among them. In later life, his
wife Catherine would recall the time he saw God's head "put to the window".
He experienced hallucinations throughout his life of bright lights, halos and colours. They
were often associated with beautiful religious themes and imagery, and therefore may have
amplified his preoccupation and obsession with religion and Christianity in particular. Indeed,
the paradigm of God and Christianity constituted the intellectual centre of his writings, from
which he provided his own opinionated embellishments. In addition, he was personally
instructed and encouraged by Arch-angels to create his artistic works actively read and
enjoyed by those same Arch-angels.
In 1779, Blake became a student at the Royal Academy in Old Somerset House, near the
Strand. There, he rebelled against the unfinished style of fashionable painters such as Rubens,
championed by the school's first president, Joshua Reynolds. Blake detested Reynolds' pursuit
of "general truth" and "general beauty". Reynolds wrote in his ‘Discourses’ that ‘the
disposition to abstractions, to generalising and classification, is the great glory of the human
mind’; Blake responded that "To Generalise is to be an Idiot; To Particularise is the Alone
Distinction of Merit". In July 1780, Blake joined a rampaging mob storming Newgate Prison
in London with blue cockades on their caps, in solidarity with the American Revolution.
In 1782, Blake met his future patron John Flaxman and his future wife Catherine Boucher,
who was to become his wife on 18 August in St. Mary's Church, Battersea. Illiterate,
Catherine signed her wedding contract with an 'X'. In addition to teaching Catherine to read
and write, Blake trained her as an engraver. Later, would help print his illuminated works and
maintain his spirits throughout numerous misfortunes.
At this time, George Cumberland, one of the founders of the National Gallery, became an
admirer of Blake's work. His first collection of poems, ‘Poetical Sketches’, was published
around 1783. After his father's death, he opened a print shop in 1784 with his brother Robert,
and began working with radical publisher Joseph William Johnson. At Johnson's house he
met some of the leading intellectual dissidents of the time in England: Joseph Priestley,
scientist; Richard Price, philosopher; John Henry Fuseli; Mary Wollstonecraft, an early
feminist; and Thomas Paine, American revolutionary.
Along with William Wordsworth and William Godwin, Blake had great hopes for the
American and French revolutions and wore a red liberty cap in solidarity with the French. But,
he despaired with the rise of Robespierre and the Reign of Terror in the French revolution.
Mary Wollstonecraft became a close friend, and Blake illustrated her ‘Original Stories from
Real Life’ (1788). They shared views on sexual equality and the institution of marriage. In
1793's ‘Visions of the Daughters of Albion’, Blake condemned the cruel absurdity of enforced
chastity and loveless marriage and defended the right of women to complete self-fulfillment.

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Blake's marriage to Catherine remained a close and devoted one until his death.
Around 1800, he moved to a cottage at Felpham in Sussex to take up a job illustrating the
works of William Hayley, a poet. In this cottage, he wrote ‘Milton: a Poem’ (published
between 1805 and 1808). Then, he started feeling underpaid by his new patron. So, he
returned to London in 1802 and began to write and illustrate ‘Jerusalem’ (1804–1820). Then,
he was introduced by George Cumberland to a young artist named John Linnell and Samuel
Palmer in a group of artists who called themselves the ‘Shoreham Ancients’. This group
shared Blake's rejection of modern trends and his belief in a spiritual and artistic New Age.
At 65, Blake began work on illustrations for the Book of Job. He abhorred slavery and
believed in racial and sexual equality. Several of his poems and paintings express a notion of
universal humanity: "As all men are alike (tho' infinitely various)". He retained an active
interest in social and political events for all his life, but often resorted to cloaking social
idealism and political statements in Protestant mystical allegory. He rejected all forms of
imposed authority; indeed, he was charged with assault and uttering seditious and treasonable
expressions against the King in 1803, though he later was cleared. These charges were by a
soldier after Blake had bodily removed him from his garden, apparently exclaiming, "Damn
the king. The soldiers are all slaves". Blake's views on what he saw as oppression and
restriction of rightful freedom extended to the Church. His spiritual beliefs are evidenced in
‘Songs of Experience’ (in 1794), in his own distinction between the Old Testament God, with
vile restrictions, and the New Testament God (Jesus Christ in Trinitarianism) as a positive
influence. Then, Blake began to sell a great number of his works, particularly his Bible
illustrations, to Thomas Butts, a patron who saw Blake more as a friend.
On the day of his death, Blake worked relentlessly on his ‘Dante’ series. Eventually, it is
reported, he ceased working and turned to his wife, who was in tears by his bedside.
Beholding her, Blake is said to have cried, "Stay Kate! Keep just as you are – I will draw your
portrait – for you have ever been an angel to me." Having completed this portrait (now lost),
Blake laid down his tools and began to sing hymns and verses. (Ackroyd, Blake, 389) At six
that evening, after promising his wife that he would be with her always, Blake died. Catherine
paid for Blake's funeral with money lent to her by Linnell. He was buried five days after his
death – on the eve of his forty-fifth wedding anniversary – at Dissenter's burial ground in
Bunhill Fields, where his parents were also interred. Following Blake's death, Catherine
moved into Tatham's house as a housekeeper. During this period, she believed she was
regularly visited by Blake, despite his having died. She continued selling his illuminated
works and paintings, but would entertain no business transaction without first "consulting Mr.
Blake". On the day of her own death, in October 1831, she was as calm and cheerful as her
husband, and called out to him "as if he were only in the next room, to say she was coming to
him, and it would not be long now upon her death.

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 The Chimney Sweeper
When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry " 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!"
So your chimneys I sweep & in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head

That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved, so I said,
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet, & that very night,

As Tom was a-sleeping he had such a sight!
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, & Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black;

And by came an Angel who had a bright key,

And he opened the coffins & set them all free;
Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing they run,
And wash in a river and shine in the Sun.

Then naked & white, all their bags left behind,

They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind.
And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father & never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark

And got with our bags & our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy & warm;
So if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

Holy Thursday
Twas on a Holy Thursday their innocent faces clean
The children walking two & two in red & blue & green
Grey headed beadles walkd before with wands as white as snow
Till into the high dome of Pauls they like Thames waters flow

O what a multitude they seemd these flowers of London town

Seated in companies they sit with radiance all their own
The hum of multitudes was there but multitudes of lambs
Thousands of little boys & girls raising their innocent hands
Now like a mighty wind they raise to heaven the voice of song
Or like harmonious thunderings the seats of heaven among
Beneath them sit the aged men wise guardians of the poor
Then cherish pity, lest you drive an angel from your door

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To the Accuser Who is the God of This World
Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce
And dost not know the Garment from the Man
Every Harlot was a Virgin once
Nor canst thou ever change Kate into Nan
Tho thou art Worshipd by the Names
Divine Of Jesus & Jehovah: thou art still
The Son of Morn in weary Nights decline
The lost Travellers Dream under the Hill
To the Evening Star
Thou fair-hair’d angel of the evening,
Now, while the sun rests on the mountains, light
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares thro’ the dun forest:
The fleeces of our flocks are cover’d with
Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.
The Sick Rose
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

Ah! Sun-Flower
Ah Sun-flower! weary of time.
Who countest the steps of the Sun:
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the travellers journey is done.
Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale Virgin shrouded in snow:
Arise from their graves and aspire,
Where my Sun-flower wishes to go.

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 The Tyger
Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears

And water’d heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger, Tyger burning bright,

In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
The Garden of Love
I went to the Garden of Love.
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.
And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And Thou shalt not. writ over the door;
So I turn’d to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,

And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

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 London
I wander thro’ each charter’d street,
Near where the charter’d Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg’d manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh,
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro’ midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse

A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I watered it in fears.
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles.
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine.
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole.
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

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 William Wordsworth
William Wordsworth was a major English Romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature with the 1798 joint publication
‘Lyrical Ballads’. His magnum opus is generally considered to be The Prelude, a semi-
autobiographical poem of his early years which he repeatedly revised and expanded after
being generally known as "the poem to Coleridge". He was Britain's Poet Laureate from 1843
until his death in 1850.
The second of five children born to John Wordsworth and Ann Cookson, he was born on 7
April 1770 in Wordsworth House in Cockermouth, Cumberland—part of the scenic region in
northwest England, the Lake District. His sister, the poet and diarist Dorothy Wordsworth,
was born the following year, and the two were baptised together. Their father was a legal
representative of James Lowther, 1st Earl of Lonsdale and, lived in a large mansion in the
small town. Yet, his offspring had little involvement with their father until his death in 1783.
His father had taught him the poetry of Milton, Shakespeare and Spenser. He would also stay
at his mother's parents' house in Penrith, Cumberland where he was exposed to the moors. He
could not get along with his grandparents and his uncle, and his hostile interactions with them
made him contemplate suicide. After the death of their mother, in 1778, Wordsworth's father
sent him to Hawkshead Grammar School in Lancashir and sent Dorothy to live with relatives
in Yorkshire. He had been taught to read by his mother and had attended a tiny school in
Cockermouth and then was sent to an upper-class school in Penrith for the children of upper-
and was taught by Ann Birkett, a traditionalist who pursued both scholarly and local activities,
especially the festivals around Easter, May Day, and Shrove Tuesday. He was taught both the
Bible and ‘the Spectator’ and met his future wife Mary Hutchinson.
In 1787, he published a sonnet in ‘The European’ Magazine and began attending St John's
College, Cambridge. He received his B.A. degree in 1791 and returned to Hawkshead for his
first two summer holidays, often spending later holidays on walking tours and sightseeing.
In 1790, he took a walking tour of Europe, named the Grand Tour, through the Alps and
nearby areas of France, Switzerland, and Italy. In November 1791, hw visited Revolutionary
France and became enthralled with the Republican movement. Yet, the Reign of Terror and
the War with England soon estranged him from it. With the Peace of ‘Amiens’ allowing travel
to France, he visited Calais with his sister Dorothy in 1802. Then, he wrote the sonnet "It is a
beauteous evening, calm and free" recalling a seaside walk.
In 1793, he published his first collection ‘An Evening Walk and Descriptive Sketches’ and
met Samuel Taylor Coleridge in Somerset. They quickly developed a close friendship.
In 1797, Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy moved to Alfoxton House, Somerset, near
Coleridge's home in Nether Stowey. Wordsworth and Coleridge (with insights from Dorothy)
anonymously produced Lyrical Ballads (1798). In his "Preface to Lyrical Ballads", deemed
the "manifesto" of English Romantic criticism, Wordsworth calls his poems "experimental."
One of his major poems, "Tintern Abbey", was published in the work, along with Coleridge's
"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner". The second edition, in 1800, had only Wordsworth listed
as the author, and included a preface which was augmented significantly in the 1802 edition.
This Preface to Lyrical Ballads is considered a central work of Romantic literary theory. In it,
Wordsworth discusses the elements of a new type of poetry based on the "real language of
men" away from the poetic diction of much 18th-century poetry. Here, he presents his
famous definition of poetry as "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its
origin from emotion recollected in tranquility."
Wordsworth, Dorothy and Coleridge travelled to Germany in the autumn of 1798. While
Coleridge was intellectually stimulated by the trip, Wordsworth was mainly homesick.
During the harsh winter of 1798–99, Wordsworth lived with Dorothy in Goslar, and, despite

9
extreme stress and loneliness, began an autobiographical piece later titled ‘The Prelude’ and
wrote many famous poems, including "The Lucy poems".
He and his sister moved back to England, now to Dove Cottage in Grasmere in the Lake
District, with fellow poet Robert Southey nearby. Wordsworth, Coleridge and Southey
became the "Lake Poets". Then, his poems depicted death, endurance, separation and grief.
In 1802, William Lowther, 1st Earl of Lonsdale, paid the £4,000 debt owed to Wordsworth's
father. This afforded him the financial means to marry his childhood friend, Mary Hutchinson
on October 4. Dorothy continued to live with the couple and grew close to Mary.
He had intended to write a 3-part philosophical poem titled ‘The Recluse’. He had in 1798–99
started an autobiographical poem, the "poem to Coleridge", as an appendix to ‘The Recluse’.
In 1804, he began expanding this autobiographical work into a prologue rather than an
appendix. By 1805, he had completed it, but refused to publish it until he had completed the
whole of ‘The Recluse’. Yet, The death of his brother John affected him strongly.
While in Revolutionary Paris in 1792, the 22-year-old Wordsworth met the mysterious
traveller John "Walking" Stewart (1747–1822),who was nearing the end of a thirty-years'
peregrination from Madras, India, through Persia and Arabia, across Africa and all of Europe,
ans through the fledgling United States. In 1791, Stewart had published an ambitious work of
original materialist philosophy entitled The ‘Apocalypse of Nature’ to which many of
Wordsworth's philosophical sentiments are likely indebted.
In 1807, his ‘Poems in Two Volumes’ were published, including "Ode: Intimations of
Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood". Its reception was lukewarm, however.
From 1810, Wordsworth and Coleridge were estranged over the latter's opium addiction. Two
of his children, Thomas and Catherine, died in 1812. The following year, he received an
appointment as Distributor of Stamps for Westmorland, and the £400 per year income made
him financially secure. His family, including Dorothy, moved to Rydal Mount, Ambleside in
1813, for the rest of his life.
In 1814, he published ‘The Excursion’ as the second part of the three-part ‘The Recluse’. He
had not completed the first and third parts, and never would. He did, however, write a poetic
Prospectus to "The Recluse" in which he lays out the structure and intent of the poem. ‘The
Prospectus’ contains some of Wordsworth's most famous lines on the relation between the
human mind and nature. Beginning around the mid-1810s, most of the issues that characterise
his early poetry (loss, death, endurance, separation and abandonment) were resolved in his
writings. But, by 1820, he enjoyed the success accompanying a reversal in the contemporary
critical opinion of his earlier works. Following the death of his friend the painter William
Green in 1823, Wordsworth mended relations with Coleridge. The two were fully reconciled
by 1828, when they toured the Rhineland together. Dorothy suffered from a severe illness in
1829 that rendered her an invalid for the remainder of her life. The Poet Laureate and other
honours Wordsworth received an honorary Doctor of Civil Law degree in 1838 from Durham
University, and the same honour from Oxford University the next year.In 1842, the
government awarded him a civil list pension amounting to £300 a year. With the death in
1843 of Robert Southey, Wordsworth became the Poet Laureate. He initially refused the
honour, saying he was too old, but accepted when Prime Minister Robert Peel assured him
"you shall have nothing required of you" (he became the only laureate to write no official
poetry). When his daughter, Dora, died in 1847, his production of poetry came to a standstill.
William Wordsworth died by re-aggravating a case of pleurisy on 23 April 1850, and was
buried at St. Oswald's church in Grasmere. His widow Mary published his lengthy
autobiographical "poem to Coleridge" as The Prelude several months after his death.

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 The 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.

My Heart Leaps Up
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.

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Old Man Travelling. Animal Tranquillity and Decay, A Sketch
The little hedge-row birds,
That peck along the road, regard him not.
He travels on, and in his face, his step,
His gait, is one expression; every limb,
His look and bending figure, all bespeak
A man who does not move with pain, but moves
With thought – He is insensibly subdued
To settled quiet: he is one by whom
All effort seems forgotten, one to whom
Long patience has such mild composure given,
That patience now doth seem a thing, of which
He hath no need. He is by nature led
To peace so perfect, that the young behold
With envy, what the old man hardly feels.
– I asked him whither he was bound, and what
The object of his journey; he replied
‘Sir! I am going many miles to take
A last leave of my son, a mariner,
Who from a sea-fight has been brought to Falmouth,
And there is dying in an hospital. –’

Composed upon Westminster Bridge

Earth has not any thing to shew more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

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 A Slumber Did My Spirit Seal
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seemed a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.

No motion has she now, no force;

She neither hears nor sees;
Rolled round in earth’s diurnal course,
With rocks, and stones, and trees.

Lines Written a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey,

Five years have passed; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a sweet inland murmur. – Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
Which on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which, at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Among the woods and copses lose themselves,
Nor, with their green and simple hue, disturb
The wild green landscape. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild; these pastoral farms
Green to the very door; and wreathes of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees,
With some uncertain notice, as might seem,
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
Or of some hermit’s cave, where by his fire
The hermit sits alone.

On The Banks Of A Rocky Stream

Behold an emblem of our human mind
Crowded with thoughts that need a settled home,
Yet, like to eddying balls of foam
Within this whirlpool, they each other chase
Round and round, and neither find
An outlet nor a resting-place!
Stranger, if such disquietude be thine,
Fall on thy knees and sue for help divine.

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 Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge was born in Ottery St. Mary, Devon in 1772. His father was a local
vicar who was already 53 when Samuel was born; his father later died when Coleridge was
just six years old. As a child, he was withdrawn but loved reading. He later recounted how
much he enjoyed reading books such as Robinson Crusoe, and Arabian Nights. After the
death of his father, he went to Christ’s Hospital school in London, where he developed a love
for the classic Greek poets and the two English immortals, Shakespeare and Milton. In 1791,
he went to Jesus College, Cambridge University. Here his poetry was first recognised,
winning the Browne Gold medal for an ode on the slave trade.
Halfway through his degree, he quit college to join the Royal Dragoons, but this proved a
failure; he couldn’t cope with military life, and with the aid of his brother was discharged on
the grounds of insanity. He returned to Jesus College, though he never completed his degree.
It was in Cambridge that he met poet and radical Robert Southey; the political opinions of
Southey left an impression on Coleridge, who was interested in political thought throughout
his life. Like many young students of his generation, he was initially inspired by the ideals of
the French revolution, though he later became disenchanted. At one time, Coleridge and
Southey planned to set up a utopian community in Bristol, but this plan never materialised. In
1795 he married Sara Fricker, but he never really loved her – marrying more out of social
convention. After an unhappy marriage, they separated though they did have a daughter. After
drifting away from his own wife, he later fell in love with Sara Hutchinson, the sister of
Wordsworth’s future wife.
In the late 1790s, Coleridge developed a close and important friendship with William
Wordsworth – a fellow romantic poet. This was not just a close friendship but also an
important literary collaboration. Together they published the influential volume of poetry –
Lyrical Ballards (1798). This included classics by Wordsworth, such as ‘Tintern Abbey’ and
Coleridge’s ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner’. These poems were a key development in
Romantic poetry; using everyday words to evoke poetic ideals such as the beauty of nature.
Coleridge definitely had a significant influence on Wordsworth; Wordsworth’s great
work ‘The Prelude‘ was originally entitled ‘Poem To Coleridge.’
Some of the most memorable lines from ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ have slipped into
everyday English use, for example, the metaphor of an “albatross around one’s neck’ and
phrases such as ‘Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.’
The relative success of this publication led Coleridge to receive an annual payment of £150
from the two Wedgewood brothers. This enabled him to devote more time to writing and
poetry.
In 1798, with the Wordsworths, he visited Germany where he became interested in the work
of philosopher Immanuel Kant. To Coleridge poetry and philosophy shared a common thread;
in his Biographia Literaria (1817) Ch 1, he wrote:
“No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound
philosopher.”
Coleridge wrote on a wide variety of subjects, which he recorded in his Notebooks – daily
meditations on life. He also became known as an expert critic on Shakespeare. In particular,
one lecture on Hamlet helped to resurrect the critical acclaim of this play which had, at the
time, fallen out of favour. Writing on Shakespeare, Coleridge wrote:

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 “Shakespeare, no mere child of nature; no automaton of genius; no passive
vehicle of inspiration possessed by the spirit, not possessing it; first studied
patiently, meditated deeply, understood minutely, till knowledge became
habitual and intuitive, wedded itself to his habitual feelings, and at length gave
birth to that stupendous power by which he stands alone, with no equal or
second in his own class” – Biographia Literaria (1817)
Yet, though he could offer imaginative and ground-breaking writing, he was also increasingly
hampered by his opium addiction. Suffering from neuralgic and rheumatic pains, he was
prescribed copious amounts of opium as a pain reliever; this almost inevitably led to addiction
and increased mental disturbance. Though some poems were said to have been imagined in an
opium-induced dream (like Kubla Khan) his opium consumption harmed his well being and
seriously damaged his friendship with William Wordsworth. His Opium addiction also made
him depressed; parts of Kubla Khan sound autobiographical.
“Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.”
– Coleridge, Kubla Khan, Part IV, st. 3
In 1817, his addiction was domineering his life, so he sought the help of physician James
Gillman. Gillman took Coleridge into his own household and for the remainder of his life,
Coleridge live at his residence – 3 The Grove, Highgate, London. From this period, he rarely
ventured out and continued to write prose, such as his Biographia Literaria (1817), poetry and
also more theological and politico-sociological works. He remained an icon for budding
writers and poets, especially those interested in his brand of romantic poetry such as Thomas
Carlyle and Lord Byron.
He died in Highgate, near London on July 25, 1834. An Epitaph he wrote for himself in 1833:
“Beneath this sod
A poet lies, or that which once seemed he —
Oh, lift a thought in prayer for S.T.C!
That he, who many a year, with toil of breath,
Found death in life, may here find life in death.”

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 Duty Surviving Self-Love
Unchanged within, to see all changed without,
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
Yet why at others’ wanings should’st thou fret?
Then only might’st thou feel a just regret,
Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light
In selfish forethought of neglect and slight.
O wiselier then, from feeble yearnings freed,
While, and on whom, thou may’st – shine on! nor heed
Whether the object by reflected light
Return thy radiance or absorb it quite:
And though thou notest from thy safe recess
Old Friends burn dim, like lamps in noisome air,
Love them for what they are; nor love them less,
Because to thee they are not what they were.
The Knight’s Tomb
Where is the grave of Sir Arthur O’Kellyn?
Where may the grave of that good man be? –
By the side of a spring, on the breast of Helvellyn,
Under the twigs of a young birch tree!
The oak that in summer was sweet to hear,
And rustled its leaves in the fall of the year,
And whistled and roared in the winter alone, I
s gone, – and the birch in its stead is grown. –
The Knight’s bones are dust,
And his good sword rust; –
His soul is with the saints, I trust.
Epitath
Stop, Christian passer-by : Stop, child of God,
And read, with gentle breast. Beneath this so
A poet lies, or that which once seem'd he--
O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.--
That he who many a year with toil of breath
Found death in life, may here find life in death :
Mercy for praise--to be forgiven for fame--
He ask'd, and hoped through Christ. Do thou the same.

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 Psyche
The butterfly the ancient Grecians made
The soul's fair emblem, and its only name--
But of the soul, escaped the slavish trade
Of mortal life !--For in this earthly frame
Ours is the reptile's lot, much toil, much blame,
Manifold motions making little speed,
And to deform and kill the things whereon we feed.
Life
As late I journey'd o'er the extensive plain
Where native Otter sports his scanty stream,
Musing in torpid woe a Sister's pain,
The glorious prospect woke me from the dream.

At every step it widen'd to my sight -

Wood, Meadow, verdant Hill, and dreary Steep,
Following in quick succession of delight, -
Till all - at once - did my eye ravish'd sweep!

May this (I cried) my course through Life portray!

New scenes of Wisdom may each step display,
And Knowledge open as my days advance!
Till what time Death shall pour the undarken'd ray,
My eye shall dart thro' infinite expanse,
And thought suspended lie in Rapture's blissful trance.
Despair
I have experienc'd
The worst, the World can wreak on me--the worst
That can make Life indifferent, yet disturb
With whisper'd Discontents the dying prayer--
I have beheld the whole of all, wherein
My Heart had any interest in this Life,
To be disrent and torn from off my Hopes
That nothing now is left. Why then live on ?
That Hostage, which the world had in it's keeping
Given by me as a Pledge that I would live--
That Hope of Her, say rather, that pure Faith
In her fix'd Love, which held me to keep truce
With the Tyranny of Life--is gone ah ! whither ?
What boots it to reply ? 'tis gone ! and now
Well may I break this Pact, this League of Blood
That ties me to myself--and break I shall !

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 An Insincere Wish: Addressed to a Beggar
We are not near enough to love,
I can but pity all your woe;
For wealth has lifted me above,
And falsehood set you down below.
If you were true, we still might be
Brothers in something more than name;
And were I poor, your love to me
Would make our differing bonds the same.
But golden gates between us stretch,
Truth opens her forbidding eyes;
You can’t forget that I am rich,
Nor I that you are telling lies.
Love never comes but at love’s call,
And pity asks for him in vain;
Because I cannot give you all,
You give me nothing back again.
And you are right with all your wrong,
For less than all is nothing too;
May Heaven beggar me ere long,
And Truth reveal herself to you!

Song
Tho' veiled in spires of myrtle-wreath,
Love is a sword that cuts its sheath,
And thro' the clefts, itself has made,
We spy the flashes of the Blade !

But thro' the clefts, itself has made,

We likewise see Love's flashing blade,
By rust consumed or snapt in twain :
And only Hilt and Stump remain.
What is Life?
Resembles Life what once was held of Light,
Too ample in itself for human sight ?
An absolute Self--an element ungrounded--
All, that we see, all colours of all shade
[Image]By encroach of darkness made ?--
Is very life by consciousness unbounded ?
And all the thoughts, pains, joys of mortal breath,
A war-embrace of wrestling Life and Death ?

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 To the River Otter

Dear native Brook! wild Streamlet of the West!

How many various-fated years have past,
What happy and what mournful hours, since last
I skimm'd the smooth thin stone along thy breast,
Numbering its light leaps! yet so deep imprest
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
I never shut amid the sunny ray,
But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,
Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,
And bedded sand that vein'd with various dyes
Gleam'd through thy bright transparence! On my way,
Visions of Childhood! oft have ye beguil'd
Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:
Ah! that once more I were a careless Child!
To Nature
It may indeed be fantasy when I
Essay to draw from all created things
Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
Lessons of love and earnest piety.
So let it be; and if the wide world rings
In mock of this belief, it brings
Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

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