The Poem
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| Dear Child of Nature, let them rail! —There is a nest in a green dale, A harbour and a hold; Where thou, a Wife and Friend, shalt see Thy own heart-stirring days, and be A light to young and old. There, healthy as a shepherd boy, And treading among flowers of joy Which at no season fade, Thou, while thy babes around thee cling, Shalt show us how divine a thing A Woman may be made. Thy thoughts and feelings shall not die, Nor leave thee, when grey hairs are nigh A melancholy slave; But an old age serene and bright, And lovely as a Lapland night, Shall lead thee to thy grave. Note Contents 1802 Main Contents |
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For the original title of this poem,—as published in The
Morning Post and Gazetteer,—see the note to the previous poem. When
first published it was unsigned.—Ed.
Note:
See the editorial note to the preceding poem.—Ed.
1803
The poems associated with the year 1803 consist mainly of the "Memorials
of a Tour in Scotland," which Wordsworth and his sister took—along with
Coleridge—in the autumn of that year, although many of these were not
written till some time after the Tour was finished. The Green Linnet
and Yew-trees were written in 1803, and some sonnets were composed in
the month of October; but, on the whole, 1803 was not a fruitful year in
Wordsworth's life, as regards his lyrics and smaller poems. Doubtless
both The Prelude and The Excursion were revised in 1803.—Ed.
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Wordsworth's Poetical Works, Volume 2: 1803
Edited by William Knight
1896
- 1803
-
- The Green Linnet
- Yew-Trees
- "Who fancied what a pretty sight"
- "It is no Spirit who from heaven hath flown"
- Memorials of a Tour in Scotland
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- Departure from the Vale of Grasmere. (August, 1803)
- At the Grave of Burns, 1803. Seven Years after his Death
- Thoughts suggested the Day following, on the Banks of Nith, near the Poet's Residence
- To the Sons of Burns, after Visiting the Grave of their Father
- To a Highland Girl
- Glen-Almain; or, The Narrow Glen
- Stepping Westward
- The Solitary Reaper
- Address to Kilchurn Castle
- Rob Roy's Grave
- Sonnet composed at —— Castle
- Yarrow Unvisited
- The Matron of Jedborough and her Husband
- "Fly, some kind Harbinger, to Grasmere-dale"
- The Blind Highland Boy
- October, 1803
- "There is a bondage worse, far worse, to bear"
- October, 1803 (2)
- "England! the time is come when thou should'st wean"
- October, 1803 (3)
- To the Men of Kent. October, 1803
- In the Pass of Killicranky
- Anticipation. October, 1803
- Lines on the Expected Invasion, 1803
The poems associated with the year 1803 consist mainly of the "Memorials
of a Tour in Scotland," which Wordsworth and his sister took—along with
Coleridge—in the autumn of that year, although many of these were not
written till some time after the Tour was finished. The Green Linnet
and Yew-trees were written in 1803, and some sonnets were composed in
the month of October; but, on the whole, 1803 was not a fruitful year in
Wordsworth's life, as regards his lyrics and smaller poems. Doubtless
both The Prelude and The Excursion were revised in 1803.—Ed.
The Green Linnet
Composed 1803.—Published 1807
[Composed in the orchard, Town-end, Grasmere, where the bird was often
seen as here described.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Fancy."—Ed.
The Poem
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| Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed Their snow white blossoms on my head, With brightest sunshine round me spread Of spring's unclouded weather, In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard-seat! And birds and flowers once more to greet, My last year's friends together. One have I marked, the happiest guest In all this covert of the blest: Hail to Thee, far above the rest In joy of voice and pinion! Thou, Linnet! in thy green array, Presiding Spirit here to-day, Dost lead the revels of the May; And this is thy dominion. While birds, and butterflies, and flowers, Make all one band of paramours, Thou, ranging up and down the bowers, Art sole in thy employment: A Life, a Presence like the Air, Scattering thy gladness without care, Too blest with any one to pair; Thyself thy own enjoyment. Amid yon tuft of hazel trees, That twinkle to the gusty breeze, Behold him perched in ecstacies, Yet seeming still to hover; There! where the flutter of his wings Upon his back and body flings Shadows and sunny glimmerings, That cover him all over. My dazzled sight he oft deceives, A Brother of the dancing leaves; Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves Pours forth his song in gushes; As if by that exulting strain He mocked and treated with disdain The voiceless Form he chose to feign, While fluttering in the bushes. Note Contents 1803 Main Contents |
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Note:
Of all Wordsworth's poems this is the one most distinctively
associated with the Orchard, at Town-end, Grasmere. Dorothy
Wordsworth writes in her Journal under date May 28th, 1802:
"We sat in the orchard. The young bull-finches in their pretty coloured raiment, bustle about among the blossoms, and poise themselves like wire-dancers or tumblers, shaking the twigs and dashing off the blossoms."
Ed.
Yew-Trees
Composed 1803.—Published 1815
[Written at Grasmere. These Yew-trees are still standing, but the spread
of that at Lorton is much diminished by mutilation. I will here mention
that a little way up the hill, on the road leading from Rosthwaite to
Stonethwaite (in Borrowdale) lay the trunk of a Yew-tree, which appeared
as you approached, so vast was its diameter, like the entrance of a
cave, and not a small one. Calculating upon what I have observed of the
slow growth of this tree in rocky situations, and of its durability, I
have often thought that the one I am describing must have been as old as
the Christian era. The Tree lay in the line of a fence. Great masses of
its ruins were strewn about, and some had been rolled down the hillside
and lay near the road at the bottom. As you approached the tree, you
were struck with the number of shrubs and young plants, ashes, etc.,
which had found a bed upon the decayed trunk and grew to no
inconsiderable height, forming, as it were, a part of the hedgerow. In
no part of England, or of Europe, have I ever seen a yew-tree at all
approaching this in magnitude, as it must have stood. By the bye,
Hutton, the old guide, of Keswick, had been so impressed with the
remains of this tree, that he used gravely to tell strangers that there
could be no doubt of its having been in existence before the
flood.—I. F.]
One of the "Poems of the Imagination."—Ed.
The Poem
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| There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale, Which to this day stands single, in the midst Of its own darkness, as it stood of yore: Not loth to furnish weapons for the bands Of Umfraville or Percy ere they marched To Scotland's heaths; or those that crossed the sea And drew their sounding bows at Azincour, Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Poictiers. Of vast circumference and gloom profound This solitary Tree! a living thing Produced too slowly ever to decay; Of form and aspect too magnificent To be destroyed. But worthier still of note Are those fraternal Four of Borrowdale, Joined in one solemn and capacious grove; Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth Of intertwisted fibres serpentine Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved; Nor uninformed with Phantasy, and looks That threaten the profane;—a pillared shade, Upon whose grassless floor of red-brown hue, By sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged Perennially—beneath whose sable roof Of boughs, as if for festal purpose, decked With unrejoicing berries—ghostly Shapes May meet at noontide; Fear and trembling Hope, Silence and Foresight; Death the Skeleton And Time the Shadow;—there to celebrate, As in a natural temple scattered o'er With altars undisturbed of mossy stone, United worship; or in mute repose To lie, and listen to the mountain flood Murmuring from Glaramara's inmost caves. Note Contents 1803 Main Contents |
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Note:
The text of this poem was never altered. The Lorton Yew-tree—which, in
1803, was "of vast circumference," the "pride of Lorton Vale," and
described as:
'a living thing
Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed—'
does not now verify its poet's prediction of the future. Mr. Wilson
Robinson of Whinfell Hall, Cockermouth, wrote to me of it in May 1880:
"The tree in outline expanded towards the root considerably: then, at about two feet from the ground, the trunk began to separate into huge limbs, spreading in all directions. I once measured this trunk at its least circumference, and found it 23 feet 10 inches. For the last 50 or 60 years the branches have been gradually dying on the S. E. side, and about 25 years ago a strong S. E. gale, coming with accumulated force down Hope Gill, and—owing to the tree being so open on that side—taking it laterally at a disadvantage, wrenched off one of the great side branches down to the ground, carrying away nearly a third of the tree. This event led to farther peril; for, the second portion having been sold to a cabinetmaker at Whitehaven for #15, this gave the impression that the wood was very valuable (owing to the celebrity of the tree); and a local woodmonger bought the remainder. Two men worked half a day to grub it up; but a Cockermouth medical gentleman, hearing what was going on, made representations to the owner, and it ended in the woodmen sparing the remainder of the tree, which was not much the worse for what had been done. Many large dead branches have also been cut off, and now we have to regret that the 'pride of Lorton Vale,' shorn of its ancient dignity, is but a ruin, much more venerable than picturesque."
The "fraternal Four of Borrowdale" are certainly "worthier still of
note." The "trunk" described in the Fenwick note, as on the road between
Rosthwaite and Stonethwaite, has disappeared long ago; but the "solemn
and capacious grove" existed till 1883 in its integrity. The description
in the poem is realistic throughout, while the visible scene suggests
"an ideal grove, in which the ghostly masters of mankind meet, and sleep, and offer worship to the Destiny that abides above them, while the mountain flood, as if from another world, makes music to which they dimly listen."
(Stopford A. Brooke, in Theology in the English Poets, p. 259.) With
the first part of the poem Wordsworth's Sonnet composed at —— Castle
during the Scotch Tour of 1803 may be compared (p. 410). For a critical
estimate of the poem see Modern Painters, part III. sec. II, chap. iv.
Ruskin alludes to "the real and high action of the imagination in
Wordsworth's Yew-trees (perhaps the most vigorous and solemn bit of
forest landscape ever painted). It is too long to quote, but the reader
should refer to it: let him note especially, if painter, that pure touch
of colour, 'by sheddings from the pining umbrage tinged.'" See also
Coleridge's criticism in Biographia Literaria, vol. ii. p. I77,
edition 1847, and his daughter Sara's comment on her father's note.
There can be little doubt that, as Professor Dowden has suggested, the
lines 23 to 28 were suggested to Wordsworth by Virgil's lines in the
Sixth Book of the Æneid, 273-284:
'Vestibulum ante ipsum primisque in faucibus Orci
Luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia Curæ;
Pallentesque habitant Morbi, tristisque Senectus,
Et Metus, et malesuada Fames, ac turpis Egestas,
Terribiles visu formæ, Letumque, Labosque;
Tum consanguineus Leti Sopor, et mala mentis
Gaudia, mortiferumque adverso in limine Bellum,
Ferreique Eumenidum thalami, et Discordia demens,
Vipereum crinem vittis innexa cruentis.
In medio ramos annosaque bracchia pandit
Ulmus opaca, ingens, quam sedem Somnia volgo
Vana tenere ferunt, foliisque sub omnibus hærent.'
"The 'Four Yew Trees,' and the mysterious company which you have assembled there, 'Death the Skeleton and Time the Shadow.' It is a sight not for every youthful poet to dream of; it is one of the last results he must have gone thinking for years for."
(Charles Lamb to Wordsworth, 1815.)
In Crabb Robinson's Diary, a reference to the Yew-trees of Lorton and Borrowdale will be found under date Sept. 16 and 20, 1816.
In Crabb Robinson's Diary, a reference to the Yew-trees of Lorton and Borrowdale will be found under date Sept. 16 and 20, 1816.
"The pride of Lorton Vale" is now a ruin, and has lost all its ancient majesty: but, until the close of 1883, the "fraternal four" of Borrowdale were still to be seen "in grand assemblage." Every one who has felt the power of Wordsworth's poetry,—and especially those who had visited the Seathwaite valley, and read the Yew-Trees under the shade of that once "solemn and capacious grove" before 1884,—must have felt as if they had lost a personal friend, when they heard that the "grove" was gone. The great gale of December 11, 1883, smote it fiercely, uprooting one of the trees, and blowing the others to ribbands. The following is Mr. Rawnsley's account of the disaster:'Last week the gale that ravaged England did the Lake country much harm. We could spare many of the larch plantations, and could hear (with a sigh) of the fall of the giant Scotch firs opposite the little Scafell Inn at Rosthwaite, and that Watendlath had lost its pines; but who could spare those ancient Yews, the great'For beneath their pillared shade since Wordsworth wrote his poem, that Yew-tree grove has suggested to many a wanderer up Borrowdale, and visitant to the Natural Temple,"... fraternal Four of Borrowdale,
Joined in one solemn and capacious grove;
Huge trunks! and each particular trunk a growth
Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
Up-coiling, and inveterately convolved."'These Yew-trees, seemingly"an ideal grove in which the ghostly masters of mankind meet, and sleep, and offer worship to the Destiny that abides above them, while the mountain flood, as if from another world, makes music to which they dimly listen."'have been ruthlessly overthrown. One has been uprooted bodily; all the leaders and branches of the others have been wrenched from the main trunk; and the three still standing are bare poles and broken wreckage. Until one visits the spot one can have no conception of the wholesale destruction that the hurricane has wrought; until he looks on the huge rosy-hearted branches he cannot guess the tremendous force with which the tornado had fallen upon that "sable roof of boughs.""Produced too slowly ever to decay;
Of form and aspect too magnificent
To be destroyed,"
'For tornado or whirlwind it must needs have been. The Yews grew under the eastern flank of the hill called Base Brown. The gale raged from the westward. One could hardly believe it possible that the trees could have been touched by it; for the barrier hill on which they grew,—and under whose shelter they have seen centuries of storm,—goes straight upwards, betwixt them and the west. It was only realizable when, standing amid the wreckage, and looking across the valley, it was seen that a larch plantation had been entirely levelled, and evidently by a wind that was coming from the east, and directly toward the Yew-trees. On enquiring at Seathwaite Farm, one found that all the slates blown from the roof of that building on the west side, had been whirled up clean over the roof: and we can only surmise that the winds rushing from the west and north-west, and meeting the bastions of Glaramara and the Sty-head slopes, were whirled round in the 'cul-de-sac' of the valley, and moved with churning motion back from east to west over the Seathwaite Farm, and so in straight line across the beck, and up the slope to the Yew-tree cluster. With what a wrenching, and with what violence, these trees were in a moment shattered, only those can guess who now witness the ruins of the pillared shade, upon the "grassless floor of red-brown hue."'"
Ed.
"Who fancied what a pretty sight"
Composed 1803.—Published 1807
In the edition of 1807 this poem was No. VIII. of the series entitled
"Moods of my own Mind." It was afterwards included among the "Poems of
the Fancy," and in a MS. copy it was named The Coronet of
Snowdrops.—Ed.
The Poem
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| Who fancied what a pretty sight This Rock would be if edged around With living snow-drops? circlet bright! How glorious to this orchard-ground! Who loved the little Rock, and set Upon its head this coronet? Was it the humour of a child? Or rather of some gentle maid, Whose brows, the day that she was styled The shepherd-queen, were thus arrayed? Of man mature, or matron sage? Or old man toying with his age? I asked—'twas whispered; The device To each and all might well belong: It is the Spirit of Paradise That prompts such work, a Spirit strong, That gives to all the self-same bent Where life is wise and innocent. Contents 1803 Main Contents |
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