William Wordsworth

. Elusive Illusive Art Where are the pure, illusive works of artthat bubble upward from the deep unknown?Where in this world are worlds Art sets apart? Duct tape? A banana fresh from the cart?Renoir would recoil and Monet would moan.Where are the pure, illusive works of art? A gallery is...

. The Ten Best Poems to Analyze by Adam Sedia The Roman poet Horace famously set forth the twofold purpose of poetry: to teach and to delight. The sheer aesthetic and imaginative language of poetry is often on its own enough to delight, but in analyzing the poem teaching and...

. Serious Poetry Serious poetry, somber and grim; Dashing, descriptive, with narrative flair. Formal and versified; Rhythmic and dignified; Romance and rhetoric; ribald and prim. Taking you places while curled in your chair. Serious poetry, rhyming each line. Sonnets, rondeaus, villanelles, triolets. Explosive hand-grenades; Sharp-witted razor blades. Dangerous, edgy, designed...

  https://youtu.be/bYg-ITiEEyM   "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud," also known as "Daffodils," the poem by former British Poet Laureate William Wordsworth (1770-1850) read by the President of The Society of Classical Poets, Evan Mantyk, and filmed by Katy Mantyk on May 10, 2020, Mother's Day.     Daffodils, or...

by Charles Eager William Wordsworth was born in Cockermouth, Cumberland, in 1770—the same year as gave us Beethoven, Hegel, and Hölderlin—and died at the age of eighty, rich in the knowledge of his huge accomplishments, in Rydal Mount, Westmorland, in 1850. In those eighty years, Wordsworth brought a unique poetry...

Wordsworth’s Lament I wandered lonely as a cloud—Oh dear! I watched the dance of daffodils—Oh my! When on my couch in vacant mood I lie I feel their wealthy fluttering draw near. I see them toss their heads like twinkling stars; A sparkling, sprightly, jocund company. I gaze, I gaze,...

Of course, I like to see rainbows, But my heart hasn’t leapt for one; I’ve not wandered like a cloud blows, Though I’ve been lonely in the sun. Oh, I like Nature, that’s for sure— I just can’t feel Wordsworth’s amour. I’m sometimes in a pensive mood (And, yes, my...