While I am lying on the grass,
I hear thy restless shout:
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
About, and all about!
I hear thy restless shout:
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
About, and all about!
William Wordsworth
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
To the last point of vision, and beyond,
Mount, daring Warbler! that love-prompted strain,
('Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond)
Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain:
Yet might'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
All independent of the leafy spring.
Leave to the Nightingale her shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine;
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with rapture more divine;
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!
There is no doubt that the first and third stanzas are the finest, and
some may respect the judgment that cut down the Poem by the removal of
its second verse: but others will say, if it was right that such a verse
should be removed, why were many others of questionable merit allowed to
remain? Why was such a poem as 'The Glowworm', of the edition of 1807,
never republished; while 'The Waterfall and the Eglantine', and 'To the
Spade of a Friend', were retained? To give one other illustration, where
a score are possible. In the sonnet, belonging to the year 1807,
beginning:
"Beloved Vale! " I said, "when I shall con,"
we find, in the latest text, the lines--first adopted in 1827:
I stood, of simple shame the blushing Thrall;
So narrow seemed the brooks, the fields so small,
while the early edition of 1807 contains the far happier lines:
To see the Trees, which I had thought so tall,
Mere dwarfs; the Brooks so narrow, Fields so small.
On the other hand, if the earliest text be invariably retained, some of
the best poems will be spoiled (or the improvements lost), since
Wordsworth did usually alter for the better. For example, few persons
will doubt that the form in which the second stanza of the poem 'To the
Cuckoo' (written in 1802) appeared in 1845, is an improvement on all its
predecessors. I give the readings of 1807, 1815, 1820, 1827, and 1845.
While I am lying on the grass,
I hear thy restless shout:
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
About, and all about! 1807.
While I am lying on the grass,
Thy loud note smites my ear! --
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near! 1815.
While I am lying on the grass,
Thy loud note smites my ear!
It seems to fill the whole air's space,
At once far off and near. 1820.
While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear,
That seems to fill the whole air's space,
As loud far off as near. 1827.
While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear,
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off, and near. 1845.
Similarly, in each of the three poems 'To the Daisy', composed in 1802,
and in the 'Afterthought, to the Duddon', the alterations introduced
into the latest editions were all improvements upon the early version.
It might be urged that these considerations would warrant the
interference of an editor, and justify him in selecting the text which
he thought the best upon the whole; but this must be left to posterity.
When editors can escape the bias of contemporary thought and feeling,
when their judgments are refined by distance and mellowed by the new
literary standards of the intervening years,--when in fact Wordsworth is
as far away from his critics as Shakespeare now is--it may be possible
to adjust a final text. But the task is beyond the power of the present
generation.