Wordsworth went walking through the woods with
Coleridge at his side
One said that all inspiration comes from nature
The other one disagreed
One said, “the Lord lives in everything.”
The other one said,
“For all I know
everything
is inside of me.”
One took out his pipe and bow
The other his winged and stringed thing
They started a poem
That wasn’t a poem
like any they’d ever read
Coleridge asked Wordsworth
how intimate
he was with life
“Life is the one thing,” Wordsworth said,
“that I can’t fit in my mind with
God and fate and chance and love.”
“It doesn’t fit,” Coleridge said
The other one agreed
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Wordsworth |
“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.”
William Wordsworth
“Poetry, even that of the loftiest and, seemingly, that of the wildest odes, had a logic of its own, as severe as that of science.” Samuel Taylor Coleridge