EXPOSTULATION AND REPLY

“WHY, William, on that old grey stone,
Thus for the length of half a day,
Why, William, sit you thus alone,
And dream your time away?

“Where are your books?–that light  bequeathed
To Beings else forlorn and blind!
Up! up! and drink the spirit breathed
From dead men to their kind.

“You look round on your Mother Earth,
As if she for no purpose bore you;
As if you were her first-born birth,
And none had lived before you!”

One morning thus, by Esthwaite lake,
When life was sweet, I knew not why,
To me my good friend Matthew spake,
And thus I made reply: …continue reading

William Wordsworth was a famous Romantic poet. His work became a source to spread the Romantic Movement, which emphasized the role of emotions and the beauty of Nature.

Wordsworth was born at Cockermouth in Cumberland on 7 April 1770. His parents were John Wordsworth and Ann Cookson. He was a second child to his parents amongst five children. His father was Sir James Lowther’s attorney, the 1st Earl of Lonsdale. His mother died when he was 8, and five years later, his father died too.

…continue reading

Lyrical Ballads written and published in 1798  hold a special place in the world of literature. It was a joint venture by William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge; a result of their close friendship. It is remarkable in establishing Romantic Movement, which broke away from the prevailing norms of the contemporary era.

The poems in ‘Lyrical Ballads’ hold an important place because they had different subjects, a new poetic style, simple diction and easy to understand verses. They were a revolution in themselves. In the ‘Preface to Lyrical Ballads’, also a remarkable production of Wordsworth Nature-loving soul, also called the ‘manifesto’ of English criticism, Wordsworth has commented on ‘Lyrical Ballads’ as ‘experimental’:

…continue reading

Literature is the true depiction of human life in all eras and throughout the centuries. It provides an insight to human life, the behaviors and conducts of humans, as well an access to their inner realms. This quality of literature has forced critics to analyze literature on psychological grounds in order to get the gist in depths than merely the face value.

Analysis means breaking down a subject to understand it in details and discover its essential features. Psychological critical analysis of literature means to break down literature in order to understand it on psychological grounds. This has helped out the critics to present various interpretations of a single phrase apparently looking simple and uncomplicated.

…continue reading

A Poison Tree - William Blake

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I water’d it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

…continue reading

A Little Girl Lost - William Blake

Children of the future Age,
Reading this indignant page;
Know that in a former time.
Love! sweet Love! was thought a crime.

In the Age of Gold,
Free from winters cold:
Youth and maiden bright.
To the holy light,
Naked in the sunny beams delight.

Once a youthful pair
Fill’d with softest care;
Met in garden bright.
Where the holy light,
Had just removed the curtains of the night. …continue reading

A Little Boy Lost - William Blake

“Nought loves another as itself,
Nor venerates another so,
Nor is it possible to thought
A greater than itself to know.
“And, father, how can I love you
Or any of my brothers more?
I love you like the little bird
That picks up crumbs around the door.”

…continue reading

A Dream - William Blake

Once a dream did weave a shade
O’er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, wildered, and forlorn,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
Over many a tangle spray,

…continue reading

A Divine Image - William Blake

Cruelty has a human heart,
And Jealousy a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secresy the human dress.
The human dress is forged iron,
The human form a fiery forge,
The human face a furnace sealed,
The human heart its hungry gorge.

A Cradle Song - William Blake

Sweet dreams form a shade,
O’er my lovely infants head.
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
By happy silent moony beams

Sweet sleep with soft down.
Weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet sleep Angel mild,
Hover o’er my happy child.

Sweet smiles in the night,
Hover over my delight.
Sweet smiles Mothers smiles,
All the livelong night beguiles.

…continue reading