"Meanwhile, my hope has been, that I might fetch / Invigorating thoughts from former years; / Might fix the wavering balance of my mind, / And haply meet reproaches too, whose power / May spur me on, in manhood now mature, / To honourable toil."
— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Edward Moxon
Date
1850
Metaphor
"Meanwhile, my hope has been, that I might fetch / Invigorating thoughts from former years; / Might fix the wavering balance of my mind, / And haply meet reproaches too, whose power / May spur me on, in manhood now mature, / To honourable toil."
Metaphor in Context
I began
My story early--not misled, I trust,
By an infirmity of love for days
Disowned by memory--ere the breath of spring
Planting my snowdrops among winter snows:
Nor will it seem to thee, O Friend! so prompt
In sympathy, that I have lengthened out
With fond and feeble tongue a tedious tale.
Meanwhile, my hope has been, that I might fetch
Invigorating thoughts from former years;
Might fix the wavering balance of my mind,
And haply meet reproaches too, whose power
May spur me on, in manhood now mature,
To honourable toil. Yet should these hopes
Prove vain, and thus should neither I be taught
To understand myself, nor thou to know
With better knowledge how the heart was framed
Of him thou lovest; need I dread from thee
Harsh judgments, if the song be loth to quit
Those recollected hours that have the charm
Of visionary things, those lovely forms
And sweet sensations that throw back our life,
And almost make remotest infancy
A visible scene, on which the sun is shining?
My story early--not misled, I trust,
By an infirmity of love for days
Disowned by memory--ere the breath of spring
Planting my snowdrops among winter snows:
Nor will it seem to thee, O Friend! so prompt
In sympathy, that I have lengthened out
With fond and feeble tongue a tedious tale.
Meanwhile, my hope has been, that I might fetch
Invigorating thoughts from former years;
Might fix the wavering balance of my mind,
And haply meet reproaches too, whose power
May spur me on, in manhood now mature,
To honourable toil. Yet should these hopes
Prove vain, and thus should neither I be taught
To understand myself, nor thou to know
With better knowledge how the heart was framed
Of him thou lovest; need I dread from thee
Harsh judgments, if the song be loth to quit
Those recollected hours that have the charm
Of visionary things, those lovely forms
And sweet sensations that throw back our life,
And almost make remotest infancy
A visible scene, on which the sun is shining?
Categories
Provenance
Searching "mind" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
The Prelude, or Growth of a Poet's Mind; An Autobiographical Poem; By William Wordsworth (London: Edward Moxon, 1850). <Link to Google Books>
Date of Entry
09/29/2006
