Excerpt from the Prelude William Wordsworth
"Excerpt from the Prelude" by William Wordsworth is a reflective poem exploring the beauty of nature, the innocence of childhood, and the evolution of the poet's mind. Its themes include self-discovery and the connection between nature and emotion. The lyrical meaning emphasizes the importance of personal growth.
Genre: #Poetry
Release Year: 1805
Unique Elements: Lyrical introspection and vivid imagery.
Cultural Impact: Influenced Romantic literature and the appreciation of nature in art.
And in the frosty season, when the sun
Was set, and visible for many a mile
The cottage windows through the twilight blaz’d,
I heeded not the summons: – happy time
It was, indeed, for all of us; to me
It was a time of rapture: clear and loud
The village clock toll’d six; I wheel’d about,
Proud and exulting, like an untir’d horse,
That cares not for his home. – All shod with steel,
We hiss’d along the polish’d ice, in games
Confederate, imitative of the chace
And woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,
The Pack loud bellowing, and the hunted harе.
So through the darkness and the cold wе flew,
And not a voice was idle; with the din,
Meanwhile, the precipices rang aloud,
The leafless trees, and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron, while the distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound
Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars,
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away.
Was set, and visible for many a mile
The cottage windows through the twilight blaz’d,
I heeded not the summons: – happy time
It was, indeed, for all of us; to me
It was a time of rapture: clear and loud
The village clock toll’d six; I wheel’d about,
Proud and exulting, like an untir’d horse,
That cares not for his home. – All shod with steel,
We hiss’d along the polish’d ice, in games
Confederate, imitative of the chace
And woodland pleasures, the resounding horn,
The Pack loud bellowing, and the hunted harе.
So through the darkness and the cold wе flew,
And not a voice was idle; with the din,
Meanwhile, the precipices rang aloud,
The leafless trees, and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron, while the distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound
Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars,
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away.
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