No More Learning

--Ed. ]


[Footnote B: Compare Shakspeare's Sonnet, No. xxx. :

When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past;

and in Spenser's 'An epitaph upon the Right Honourable Sir Phillip
Sidney, Knight; Lord governor of Flushing. '

Farewell, self-pleasing thoughts, which quietness brings forth.

Ed. ]


[Footnote C: See Appendix VI. to this volume. --Ed. ]





* * * * *





LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING


Composed 1798. --Published 1798.


[Actually composed while I was sitting by the side of the brook that
runs down from the 'Comb', in which stands the village of Alford,
through the grounds of Alfoxden. It was a chosen resort of mine. The
brook ran down a sloping rock, so as to make a waterfall, considerable
for that county; and across the pool below had fallen a tree--an ash
if I rightly remember--from which rose perpendicularly, boughs in
search of the light intercepted by the deep shade above. The boughs
bore leaves of green, that for want of sunshine had faded into almost
lily-white; and from the underside of this natural sylvan bridge
depended long and beautiful tresses of ivy, which waved gently in the
breeze, that might, poetically speaking, be called the breath of the
waterfall.
This motion varied of course in proportion to the power of
water in the brook. When, with dear friends, I revisited this spot,
after an interval of more than forty years, [A] this interesting
feature of the scene was gone. To the owner of the place I could not
but regret that the beauty of this retired part of the grounds had not
tempted him to make it more accessible by a path, not broad or
obtrusive, but sufficient for persons who love such scenes to creep
along without difficulty. --I. F. ]


These 'Lines' were included among the "Poems of Sentiment
and Reflection. "--Ed.


* * * * *

THE POEM


I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link 5
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green [1] bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; 10
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes. [B]

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:--
But the least motion which they made, 15
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there. 20

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan, [2]
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?


* * * * *


This Alfoxden dell, once known locally as "The Mare's Pool," was a
trysting-place of Wordsworth, Coleridge, and their friends. Coleridge
thus describes it, in his poem beginning "This Lime-Tree Bower, my
Prison," addressed to Charles Lamb:

The roaring dell, o'er-wooded, narrow, deep,
And only speckled by the midday sun;
Where its slim trunk the ash from rock to rock
Flings arching like a bridge;--that branchless ash,
Unsunn'd and damp, whose few poor yellow leaves
Ne'er tremble in the gale, yet tremble still,
Fanned by the waterfall!

Of all the localities around Alfoxden, this grove is the one chiefly
associated with Wordsworth.