1817 ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION

William Wordsworth

P. G. P., "Sonnet to William Wordsworth" 1817; Blackwood's Magazine 2 (February 1818) 513.



Wordsworth, thy name is precious to mine ear!
It comes not on my spirit like the shout
Of riotous mirth — scattering noise about
Till joy becomes half intermix'd with fear,—
But to my heart it sinks in tones of clear,
Deep, pure, perpetual music. Mists of doubt,
That cling around my being, and put out
The lights of life, at that name disappear.
O, for a poet's voice, that I might frame
A lay of fitting thanks! I would not sing,
Like the proud nightingale's, a song of flame;
But, like the stock-dove's — ever murmuring
Of quiet, inward bliss — ever the same;—
Perpetual as my thanks — pure as their spring.
London, 1817.