Some words on Wordsworth

I have been reading and re-reading Wordsworth again. He is one of my favorite poets. As a kind of personal reflection on his poetry, I wrote this poem.

Wordsworth is dear, though not my own;
And yet I tarry in his lines,
and hang upon his living words.
I dare not say that he is mine;
I cannot make a claim that strong,
Nor can I say we are one mind,
And yet, perhaps, he is a friend.
For this I know in ways unsaid
A kindred soul has stirred before,
And wakes in me an earnest love
For life infused with blessed things
And all that is contingency.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s