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Unit 27: William Wordsworth: Ode to Intimations of Immortality




            We in thought will join your throng,                                                     Notes
                  Ye that pipe and ye that play,
                  Ye that through your hearts to-day
                  Feel the gladness of the May!
            What though the radiance which was once so bright
            Be now for ever taken from my sight,
                  Though nothing can bring back the hour
            Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
                  We will grieve not, rather find
                  Strength in what remains behind;
                  In the primal sympathy
                  Which having been must ever be;
                  In the soothing thoughts that spring
                  Out of human suffering;
                  In the faith that looks through death,
            In years that bring the philosophic mind.
                   XI
            And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
            Forebode not any severing of our loves!
            Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
            I only have relinquished one delight
            To live beneath your more habitual sway.
            I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
            Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
            The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
                              Is lovely yet;
            The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
            Do take a sober colouring from an eye
            That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
            Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
            Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
            Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
            To me the meanest flower that blows can give
            Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears


            27.1.2  Summary
            “Ode; Intimations of Immortality” is a long and rather complicated poem about Wordsworth’s
            connection to nature and his struggle to understand humanity’s failure to recognize the value of the
            natural world. The poem is elegiac in that it is about the regret of loss. Wordsworth is saddened by




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