His magnum opus is The Prelude, an autobiographical poem. And that poet is William Wordsworth. William Wordsworth (7 April 1770 – 23 April 1850) was a major English Romantic poet who helped to launch the Romantic Age in English literature along with Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
From "London, 1802", I can tell that Wordsworth thinks that the Englishmen are self-centered and stagnant, and also thinks very highly of Milton. It seems as if Wordsworth is using this poem to encourage people to be more selfless (thus showing his righteousness) and virtuous. From this poem, I can tell that Wordsworth is a very sophisticated and complex person (just like many other great poets are) who boldly expresses his views about various important issues (regarding morals, Nature, etc.).
"I Wandered as Lonely as a Cloud" reveals Wordsworth's passion for nature. In this poem, Wordsworth compares himself to a cloud, a part of nature, and the daffodils to humans. Perhaps he is trying to suggest how closely related Nature and Man are. In this beautiful poem, Wordsworth openly expresses his liking of Nature in this poem, and describes his joy at remembering the daffodils (even when he was despondant or pensive) which he cherishes.
In "The World is too much with Us", it can be easily inferred that Wordsworth is criticizing the mordern world for placing too much emphasis on material goods or being materialistic, in other words. He resents people forsaking our wonderful nature for possessions that may not be important to the world, or even us. I can tell that Wordsworth has a deep love for nature (as mentioned earlier) and resents many people's attitude towards it. He believes that materialism and the viewing of Nature as a commodity is separating Man from nature. I strongly support him in this, as being obsessed with anything can be detrimental to oneself, and being overly materialistic is rather foolish as one will waste much money on useless, overpriced goods and also spend a lot of time shopping instead of doing useful things.
London, 1802MILTON! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness.
We are selfish men;
O raise us up, return to us again,
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power!
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
I Wandered As Lonely As A Cloud
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
and twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretched in never-ending linealong the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
in such a jocund company:
I gazed - and gazed - but little thought
what wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
The World Is Too Much With Us
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. --Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
Source: Wikipedia
