It was an April morning: fresh and clear
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength,
Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice
Of waters which the winter had supplied
Was softened down into a vernal tone.
The spirit of enjoyment and desire,
And hopes and wishes, from all living things
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds.
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on
The steps of June; as if their various hues
Were only hindrances that stood between
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed
Such an entire contentment in the air
That every naked ash, and tardy tree
Yet leafless, showed as if the countenance
With which it looked on this delightful day
Were native to the summer.--Up the brook
I roamed in the confusion of my heart,
Alive to all things and forgetting all.
At length I to a sudden turning came
In this continuous glen, where down a rock
The Stream, so ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb,
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth
Or like some natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here;
But 'twas the foliage of the rocks--the birch,
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn,
With hanging islands of resplendent furze:
And, on a summit, distant a short space,
By any who should look beyond the dell,
A single mountain-cottage might be seen.
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said,
'Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook,
My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee.'
----Soon did the spot become my other home,
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode.
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there,
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps,
Years after we are gone and in our graves,
When they have cause to speak of this wild place,
May call it by the name of EMMA'S DELL.
William, This is a good piece of poetry
i long for this scenery now that it is freezing cold in virginia. what a beautiful place to be... blooming spring.
How Wordsworth captured the essence of Springtime! The spirit of enjoyment and desire, and hopes and wishes from all living things...
Really heart's close poem.
Well then Mr Wordsworth, well then. I'm not blind to the symbolism here, and I doubt Emma was either. ;)
Very interesting and lovely poem. I enjoy it a lot.
The Stream, so ardent in its course before, Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb, remarcabil
....I love it....reminds me of my early days in Sabah College of Borneo...in the old British Empire....
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all the power of words when they are strung together never ceases to amaze..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
..............this is a place I wish to visit in the spring.....to see the shepherds and their dog, with their flocks of sheep.... and a mountain cottage with a little stream running nearby.....to breathe the fresh air on a warm day in april....and listen to stories under a sky of blue with big cumulus clouds floating by....oh this would be a dream....