Archive for the ‘William Wordsworth’ Tag
Southern Dogface # 7 — Image by kenne
The southern dogface is a common butterfly this time of year here in Tucson,
and they are especially attracted to the Mexican Bird of Paradise blossoms.
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.
— from 536. Ode Intimations of Immortality by William Wordsworth
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Clouds Above the Santa Catalina Mountains — Image by kenne
This is the second time I have posted,
I wandered lonely as a Cloud,
on this blog, the first time was September 21, 2013.
This image caused me to post this beautiful Wordsworth poem again.
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 line
Along 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 shew 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.
— William Wordsworth
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Southern Dogface — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, — both what they half-create,
And what perceive; well pleased to recognize
In nature and the language of the sense,
The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
Of all my moral being.
— from Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting the Banks of the Wye during a Tour by William Wordsworth
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Our Las Day In Madidi National Park — Images by kenne
The balsa wood rafts are pulled onto land and are left for anyone who might want them. Most of the supplies and camping equipment is removed and temporarily stored in the bush to make room for all of us to travel downriver to Rurrenabaque by mid-day. Pedro’s uncle will be left behind but will be picked up later.
There is still much to do and see before catching our late afternoon flight back to La Paz.
— kenne
‘Tis Nature’s law
That none, the meanest of created things,
Of forms created the most vile and brute,
The dullest or most noxious, should exist
Divorced from good—a spirit and pulse of good,
A life and soul to every mode of being
Inseparably linked.
— William Wordsworth
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Variegated Fritillary On Mexican Bird of Paradise
Variegated Fritillary On Mexican Bird of Paradise
Fiery Skipper & Cloudless Giant Sulfur On Mexican Bird of Paradise
Variegated Fritillary On Mexican Bird of Paradise
Cloudless Giant Sulfur On Mexican Bird of Paradise
Cloudless Giant Sulfur On Mexican Bird of Paradise
Fiery Skipper On Mexican Bird of Paradise — Images by kenne
I’ve watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! Indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! – not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
~William Wordsworth, “To a Butterfly”
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Mexican Fritillary Butterfly — Photo Artistry by kenne
I’ve watched you now a full half-hour;
Self-poised upon that yellow flower
And, little Butterfly! Indeed
I know not if you sleep or feed.
How motionless! – not frozen seas
More motionless! and then
What joy awaits you, when the breeze
Hath found you out among the trees,
And calls you forth again!
~William Wordsworth, “To a Butterfly”
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Monsoon Rain at Sunset in Tanuri Ridge — Image by kenne
. . . I would stand,
If the night blackened with a coming storm,
Beneath some rock, listening to notes that are
The ghostly language of the ancient earth,
Or make their dim abode in distant winds.
Thence did I drink the visionary power;
And deem not profitless those fleeting moods
Of shadowy exultation: not for this,
That they are kindred to our purer mind
And intellectual life; but that the soul,
Remembering how she felt, but what she felt
Remembering not, retains an obscure sense
Of possible sublimity. . . .
— William Wordsworth
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Alamos Flowers — Images by kenne
(Click on any of the images for larger view in a slideshow format.)
Tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes!
— from “Lines Written in Early Spring” by William Wordsworth
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Sublime Photo Collage — Images by kenne
“Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings:
it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquillity.”
— William Wordsworth (Lyrical Ballads)
The Character
I marvel how Nature could ever find space
For so many strange contrasts in one human face:
There’s thought and no thought, and there’s paleness and bloom
And bustle and sluggishness, pleasure and gloom.
There’s weakness, and strength both redundant and vain;
Such strength as, if ever affliction and pain
Could pierce through a temper that’s soft to disease,
Would be rational peace–a philosopher’s ease.
There’s indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds,
And attention full ten times as much as there needs;
Pride where there’s no envy, there’s so much of joy;
And mildness, and spirit both forward and coy.
There’s freedom, and sometimes a diffident stare
Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she’s there,
There’s virtue, the title it surely may claim,
Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name.
This picture from nature may seem to depart,
Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he.
–– William Wordsworth
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“Lonely As A Cloud” — Image by kenne
I Wandered 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 line
Along 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 happy,
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.
— William Wordsworth
- I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud (jasonxliu.wordpress.com)
- Daffodils by William Wordsworth (luhadr.wordpress.com)
- Where I Come From (warmfrost.wordpress.com)
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“Archways to the Desert” — Image by kenne
“That one over there who went through the archway.
You reach it and I don’t stop you, William Wordsworth
doesn’t stop you, no one stops you, so you go through.
There you are, on the other side of that stone arch, a
golden sun warming the setts beneath your feet.”
— from “Archway” by Curtis White
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Arizona Fleabane Wildflowers — Image by kenne
PULL MY DAISY (III)
by Allen Ginsberg, Jack Kerouac, Neal Cassady
Pull my daisy
Tip my cup
Cut my thoughts
for coconuts
Jack my Arden
Gate my shades
Silk my garden
Rose my days
Bone my shadow
Dove my dream
Milk my mind &
Make me cream
Hop my heart on
Harp my height
Hip my angel
Hype my light
Heal the raindrop
Sow the eye
Woe the worm
Work the wise
Stop the hoax
Where’s the wake
What’s the box
How’s the Hicks
Rob my locker
Lick my rocks
Rack my lacks
Lark my looks
Whore my door
Beat my beer
Craze my hair
Bare my poor
Say my oops
Ope my shell
Roll my bones
Ring my bell
Pope my parts
Pop my pet
Poke my pap
Pit my plum
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Image taken at Shale Ridge by kenne
“There is a Thorn—it looks so old,
In truth, you’d find it hard to say
How it could ever have been young,
It looks so old and grey.
Not higher than a two years’ child
It stands erect, this aged Thorn;
No leaves it has, no prickly points;
It is a mass of knotted joints,
A wretched thing forlorn.
It stands erect, and like a stone
With lichens is it overgrown.
. . . first stanza from William Wordsworth’s, “The Thorn”
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Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
A short time after posting “Standing at the Altar of Nature,” I received an email from Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists (SCVN) member, Walt Tornow, saying that my poem “. . . captures my feelings about being in the mountains beautifully.” Walt and I understand how really rich we are, being able to embrace the great American treasure possessed by every citizen of our country. Walt represents people who love nature, want to experience as much of it as possible, and want to preserve and share it. His feelings are expressed in the following, which he shared in his email and gave permission to post.
GOD, GRACE, AND GRATITUDE
Finding God in the wilderness …
- The majesty of our mountains, the magnificence of views/ vistas they afford, and the splendor and munificence of the many gifts that nature has to offer
- The awe and humility that comes from being witness to the grandeur of it all, juxtaposed with realizing the relative smallness and fleetingness of our existence
- Never feeling or being alone … lots of company by nature’s creatures, and taking in the beauty of nature’s show
- Feeling vunerable, yet trusting, being in the wilderness — potential prey to wildlife, and exposed to the elements
- Experiencing awe, joy and inspiration, by being here
- Feeling connected … becoming one with myself, with nature, and the universe
- Finding peace, serenity, and sense of holiness … my place of worship and meditation
Here for the grace of God am I …
Grateful to be, to, be here, and be given the opportunity and capacity to enjoy the many gifts/ blessings around me.
— Walt Tornow
It’s common to find many in southeast Arizona who love the beautiful Sonoran Desert. Americans, in general, love their National Parks. But, as Nicholas D. Kristof shared in Sunday’s (9/11/11) NY Times op-ed piece, “The National Park Service reports that the number of recreational visits to our national parks was lower in 2010 than a decade earlier — lower even than in 1987 and 1988. There were 35 percent more backcountry campers in the national parks in 1979 than in 2010.”
The Outdoor Foundation concluded in a “special report on youth” that “Fewer and fewer youth are heading outdoors each year.” It added that “each year outdoorshood has rapidly moved indoors, leading to epidemic levels of childhood obesity and inactivity.”
Richard Louv, author of the bestselling book, Last Child in the Woods, writes of the staggering divide between children and the outdoors, which he calls, “nature-deficit.”
“The future will belong to the nature-smart—those individuals, families, businesses, and political leaders who develop a deeper understanding of the transformative power of the natural world and who balance the virtual with the real. The more high-tech we become, the more nature we need.”—Richard Louv
This trend is sad, but the SCVN organization is doing something to turn the trend around. In the words of William Wordsworth, “Let Nature be your teacher,” the SCVN promotes awareness and appreciation of nature “through activities and programs for children and adults.” Nature “reminds us that we are part of a larger universe, stewards rather than masters of our world.”
In today’s world, a common thread is “stress.” The best break from stress is Nature, and as David Biello reports in Scientific American, “A growing body of research suggests nature walks may be more restorative than traditional stimulants like caffeine.” For me, I’ll take both! What is your Nature attitude?
The SCVN organization is one of the best examples of Margaret Mead’s belief that “A small group of thoughtful people could change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”
Again, I share the words of William Wordsworth on Nature:
These beauteous forms,
Through a long absence, have not been to me
As is a landscape to a blind man’s eye:
But oft, in lonely rooms, and ‘mid the din
Of towns and cities, I have owed to them
In hours of weariness, sensations sweet,
Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart;
And passing even into my purer mind,
With tranquil restoration: — feelings too
Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps,
As have no slight or trivial influence
On that best portion of a good man’s life,
His little, nameless, unremembered, acts
Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened: — that serene and blessed mood,
In which the affections gently lead us on, —
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.
— William Wordsworth, from the poem, “Tintern Abby”
kenne
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Becoming is Superior to Being 