It Was An April Morning: Fresh And Clear


It Was an April Morning: Fresh and Clear is a quintessential Romantic Age poem published by Wordsworth in 1798, along with Lyrical Ballads.
All Things Will Die
Grigoriy Myasoyedov, Forest Creek, Spring 1890

It was an April morning: fresh and clear 
The Rivulet, delighting in its strength, 
Ran with a young man's speed; and yet the voice 
Of waters which the winter had supplied 
Was softened down into a vernal tone. 
The spirit of enjoyment and desire, 
And hopes and wishes, from all living things 
Went circling, like a multitude of sounds. 
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on 
The steps of June; as if their various hues 
Were only hindrances that stood between 
Them and their object: but, meanwhile, prevailed 
Such an entire contentment in the air 
That every naked ash, and tardy tree 
Yet leafless, showed as if the countenance 
With which it looked on this delightful day 
Were native to the summer.--Up the brook 
I roamed in the confusion of my heart, 
Alive to all things and forgetting all. 
At length I to a sudden turning came 
In this continuous glen, where down a rock 
The Stream, so ardent in its course before, 
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all 
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice 
Of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb, 
The shepherd's dog, the linnet and the thrush 
Vied with this waterfall, and made a song, 
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth 
Or like some natural produce of the air, 
That could not cease to be. Green leaves were here; 
But 'twas the foliage of the rocks--the birch, 
The yew, the holly, and the bright green thorn, 
With hanging islands of resplendent furze: 
And, on a summit, distant a short space, 
By any who should look beyond the dell, 
A single mountain-cottage might be seen. 
I gazed and gazed, and to myself I said, 
'Our thoughts at least are ours; and this wild nook, 
My EMMA, I will dedicate to thee.' 
----Soon did the spot become my other home, 
My dwelling, and my out-of-doors abode. 
And, of the Shepherds who have seen me there, 
To whom I sometimes in our idle talk 
Have told this fancy, two or three, perhaps, 
Years after we are gone and in our graves, 
When they have cause to speak of this wild place, 
May call it by the name of EMMA'S DELL. 

It Was An April Morning: Fresh And Clear was featured as The Short Story of the Day on Wed, Apr 06, 2022

This poem is featured in our selection of 100 Great Poems.


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