A Walk with William Wordsworth

Poetry is considered by many as the most challenging form of writing to read and decipher; and understandably. The art refrains from using many grammatical rules, while making use of "aesthetic and rhythmic" words that often endeavour to evoke difficult emotions, thoughts, and sensations that are inexpressible in prose. The word "poem" itself derives from the Greek, poesis, meaning, "hard to measure." 

In order for a reader to fully "measure" a poem - in other words, comprehend and appreciate the depth of the verse - they must take the time to read and reread; to taste and to savor.  

One of the first steps in executing a thorough (and enjoyable) poetry analysis, is to meet the author; learn about his or her childhood, beliefs, struggles, and successes. This will in turn give dimension and context to the poem.

  
Wait! Did you say analysis!?

Yes, I know that the word "analysis" is often associated with long hours of dull, eye-straining research and endeavours to painstakingly dissect long pieces of writing, but there is another way of looking at it...

Analysis is defined as, "a method of studying the nature of something or determining its essential features and their relations," and though I cannot change the definition itself, I can hearten analyzers to do one simple thing: use their imaginations! 
Think of analyzing as a friendly, intimate walk with the poet or speaker of the poem. As you stroll along you chat candidly. They share with you their thoughts; a funny anecdote from their day, a deep question they've been struggling to answer about the mysteries of life and humanity, or maybe even a deep and painful sorrow. This is personal and meaningful. You have the opportunity to talk, ask questions, and sympathize with them, and they in turn can offer you encouragement or comfort. 
Or think of it as digging for buried treasure and finding a multifaceted diamond. As you examine it, you discover new angles by which it catches the light.
But enough with the metaphors and similes! Let's take the first step in our analyzing journey by meeting the poet... 

William Wordsworth

William was born in the scenic Lake District of England, on 7 April, 1770. He was the second oldest of five children, all of whom, sadly, did not have a strong relationship with their father due to his business excursions that kept him preoccupied and away from home for long periods of time. When his mother died in 1778, William was sent to Grammar school, while Dorothy, his younger and dearest sister, was sent to live with relatives (it would be nine years before they were reunited). These painful events were only intensified when their father died a few years later, leaving William and his siblings orphans. 
The years spent in Grammar school were difficult ones for young William, but it was there that his love for poetry began to emerge and his own hand at verse began to assert itself. 
In 1790, William set out on a walking tour of Europe, where he fell in love with the revolutionary ideologies of France and had an affair with a French girl named Annette. 
On his return to England, he lived with his sister Dorothy and began writing poetry with his close friend Samuel Taylor Coleridge (maybe you've read his poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner?). According to a short biography on Wordsworth, these men were pivotal in "launching the Romantic era of English literature," inventing, "a new style of poetry in which nature and the diction of the common man trumped formal, stylized language." 
It goes on to say that, 

"Even in the nineteenth century, Wordsworth felt that the world was 'too much with us' - too fast-paced, too noisy, too full of mindless entertainment. He wanted to create poetry that reunited readers with true emotions and feelings. When he wrote about a field of daffodils, he didn't want you just to think about it - he wanted you to feel those flowers, to feel the breeze against your skin and the sense of peace this sight brought to your soul."

William continued to write and travel (briefly visiting and providing for his mistress and their daughter, Caroline, in France after the Reign of Terror) before settling down and marrying a childhood friend, Mary Hutchinson, in 1802. They had five children, two of whom died in infancy.
One of William Wordsworth's greatest ambitions was to write poetry in the "common speech." In this he succeeded and continued to do until his death in 1850. He is also credited with making England's beautiful Lake District famous. He would wander throughout the "vales and hills" of the countryside he loved and compose poems. The Prelude, considered by many to be his greatest work, was published posthumously by his wife.
  

And now for the moment we've all been waiting for... the poem! (Try reading it aloud!)

I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud

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 stretch 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 with 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.

A Short Analysis

On the 15 April, 1802, Dorothy, William's sister, wrote in her diary,

"When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park we saw a few daffodils close to the water side... But as we went along there were more and yet more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore... I never saw daffodils so beautiful... Some rested their heads upon... stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the Lake, they looked so gay, ever glancing, ever changing." 

This is the memorable walk that William would immortalize in his poem. He paints such a delicate and "jocund" picture, with his sprightly end-rhymes and verbs ("fluttering," "dancing," "sparkling")! It is a poem reveling in imagery, similes (the flowers are likened to the stars) and personification ("lonely as a cloud"). 
I can imagine William standing in blissful awe amidst the daffodils, soaking in the beautiful sight in silence by Dorothy's side, and then running home and composing this poem before the fire in an impulsive fervor of artistic inspiration, while his sister leans contentedly over her open diary, the sound of her feather pen, accompanying his own. 
But it didn't happen that way. 
It would be over two years before he wrote about the event.
So the question I ask is... why? Why did he write about a simple walk that had taken place two years before?
The answer brings us to one of the poem's major themes... The beauty of memory.
In the last stanza, Wordsworth writes, "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."
We have all felt at one time or another as "lonely as a cloud." Possibly discouraged, or dismal, and distant from the world. But then suddenly we are struck by the beauty of nature, or maybe even the kindness of`a person and awakened from our brooding mood. Later as we recollect the experience it becomes a cherished memory; a beautiful gift.
Wordsworth understood this, as well as the fact that it is a gift that keeps on giving; a gift of memory and imagination; unhindered by time or place. While in a "pensive mood," he recollects the beauty of the walk taken two years before, and is encouraged. "My heart with pleasure fills," he writes, "And dances with the daffodils."
It was impossible for Wordsworth to keep this "wealth" to himself, so he penned a poem, capturing a moment in time and thus sharing this treasure of creation with all of us... even those of us living in 2015, over 200 years later!
Can you see the daffodils "flash(ing) upon (your) inward eye"?

Though Wordsworth does not acknowledge God in his poem, I cannot help but consider the fact that He is the Composer and Conductor of the daffodils in "sprightly dance." They are "tossing their heads" gleefully in worship to Him (the ultimate Poet), which makes the event all the more awe-inspiring! 

"...The mountains and the hills before you shall break forth into singing, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands." Isaiah 55:12

"For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made..." Romans 1:20

Before I end this lengthy "wandering", I would encourage you to consider: 
What beautiful memories uplift your spirits or encourage your soul, and why? 

I hope that such memories bring us to look beyond the event itself and at our Lord, the Creator of "golden daffodils," and that they increase our love for Him and imbue us with a greater knowledge of His Magnificence!


Resources

"Dictionary." Dictionary.com. n.d. Web. 15 Jan. 2015.

Metaxas, Eric. Amazing Grace. Harper Collins. New York, 2007. Print.

"Poet: William Wordsworth." Poets. Academy of American Poets. n.d. Web. 13 Jan. 2015.

Shmoop Editorial Team. "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud." Shmoop. Shmoop University, Inc. Web. 13 Jan. 2015.

"William Wordsworth." Wikipedia. Wikipedia. 9 Jan. 2015. Web. 13 Jan 3015.