Yes, in my Brit Romantic Lit class last night we spent our three hours reading Wordsworth's mature poetry. Some of the poems were simple, for example his 1807 poem, "My heart leaps up"
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky;
So was it when my life began;So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
Memory is something Wordsworth writes a lot about, and in his more mature poetry he toys with the notion that a memory of a place can be called upon at any time can bring feelings of contentedness and happiness just from remembering the place and how you felt in the place. This poem about rainbows reminded me of the day before we left for second extended weekend in Ireland and a huge rainbow appeared behind the cottages. It was a dreary day, but everyone ran outside to look at this ginormous, beautiful rainbow. We were all a little sick, but coats weren't necessary because our spirits were lifted. In that moment, we were incredibly happy.
And now I'm home and I miss it more than anything, because I can't find happiness like that anymore. I don't know if I should blame myself, blame America, blame this town. But can I really blame anyone? I don't think so.
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