Memory Poem by William Wordsworth

Memory

Rating: 2.6


A pen--to register; a key--
That winds through secret wards
Are well assigned to Memory
By allegoric Bards.

As aptly, also, might be given
A Pencil to her hand;
That, softening objects, sometimes even
Outstrips the heart's demand;

That smooths foregone distress, the lines
Of lingering care subdues,
Long-vanished happiness refines,
And clothes in brighter hues;

Yet, like a tool of Fancy, works
Those Spectres to dilate
That startle Conscience, as she lurks
Within her lonely seat.

Oh! that our lives, which flee so fast,
In purity were such,
That not an image of the past
Should fear that pencil's touch!

Retirement then might hourly look
Upon a soothing scene,
Age steal to his allotted nook
Contented and serene;

With heart as calm as lakes that sleep,
In frosty moonlight glistening;
Or mountain rivers, where they creep
Along a channel smooth and deep,
To their own far-off murmurs listening.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Suryendu Chaudhury 26 September 2020

The memory within and without. The personified doubt.

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Peter T 27 May 2018

Beautiful

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L******N 16 May 2018

What a poem.....

0 0 Reply
Haoran T 29 January 2018

It recalls me many moving moments...and makes me feel relax and serene as well. Marvelous!

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READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES

William Wordsworth

Cumberland / England
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