"Llyn-y-Ddinas, North Wales, 1873" by Sidney Richard Percy‘Not Like Wordsworth’ by Ron L. Hodges The Society October 16, 2017 Beauty, Culture, Humor, Poetry 5 Comments 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 thoughts can be vacant), But sight of a daffodil brood Never makes my spirit buoyant. Oh, rivers are pleasant to see, Yet Wordsworth’s bliss is strange to me. So, how can I expect to write When I don’t know what flowers mean, And Nature’s voice is dim as night— Isn’t poet ink sylvan green? Oh, if I can’t channel Wordsworth, I’ll never voice the sounds of earth! Isn’t there space for a poet Who’s not Nature-rapt like Wordsworth? The poet’s portal can’t be shut On all who lack his gift of mirth. If I’ve an “inward eye” to hone, Why must it be like Wordsworth’s own? Post your thoughts on Wordsworth and nature in the comments section below. Ron L. Hodges is an English teacher and poet who lives in Orange County, California. His works have appeared in The Road Not Taken, Ancient Paths, Calvary Cross, and The Society of Classical Poets Journal 2015 and 2016. He won the Society’s prestigious Annual Poetry Competition in 2016. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who harasses or disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comment or comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 5 Responses ben October 16, 2017 i felt that way and my poetry started to use character as a reference point vs nature. it’s one and the same. wordsworth was christian. i practice eastern meditation, so our reference points are different as they would be for any two individuals. i tend to be less romantic and less refined. you probably have your own nuances or characteristics. nature is still just as much a reference point. ultimately principles of life are reflected in it and it too comes from them. Reply Michael Dashiell October 16, 2017 Though you haven’t the love and intimacy with nature Wordsworth enjoyed how is your empathy with cities and artificial things? This theme could make a poem with a positive view. On the other hand, Coleridge lamented his failing empathy with the beauty of nature in Dejection: An Ode: Yon crescent Moon, as fixed as if it grew/in its own cloudless, starless lake of blue/I see them all so excellently fair/I see, not feel how beautiful they are! This might be closer to your viewpoint? To halfway come to your defense, Wordsworth loved the visible beauty of nature, yet didn’t seem to recognize its negative and ugly aspects: The endless appetite, murder, and devouring of lesser prey. Reply Sam Gilliland October 17, 2017 When one invites discussion on a major, classical poet the need to search for philosophy aligned to cogent points far over-rides the real intent behind comments. Better, by far, to demonstrate the triumphs of the poet, and the doctrines displayed in fine verse so that debts to literature are seen for what they are and not the exasperating principles of versifiers hell bent on analysis of what should readily be the emotional involvement of joy rather than anything else. Reply Hibah Shabkhez October 17, 2017 I empathise with your basic point: the poet who (like myself) is obliged to concede that poems for him or her come generally not from daffodils and sylvan green but the oft-deplored City does tend to feel rather sheepishly out of place in the face of Wordsworth’s rapture. But this is the first time I have heard of Wordsworth being credited with a ‘gift of mirth’… he has fervour, certes, and a bliss all but fey, but mirth? Reply J. Simon Harris October 24, 2017 I like this poem, with the back-and-forth conversation with some of Wordsworth’s poems. It is somewhat paradoxical because the poet seems to be fond enough of Wordsworth to be familiar with his work, yet is unmoved enough by him that he laments it in this poem. I’m not well versed in Wordsworth, but the sentiment is common: sometimes one can recognize the greatness of something intellectually, without actually connecting with it emotionally. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.