(from) The Two-Part Prelude

William Wordsworth

1799

First Part

Was it for this

That one, the fairest of all rivers, loved

To blend his murmurs with my Nurse's song,

And from his alder shades, and rocky falls,

And from his fords and shallows, sent a voice

That flowed along my dreams? For this didst thou

O Derwent, traveling over the green plains

Near my "sweet birth-place," didst thou beauteous Stream

Make ceaseless music through the night and day,

Which with its steady cadence tempering

Our human waywardness, composed my thoughts

To more than infant softness, giving me,

Among the fretful dwellings of mankind,

A knowledge, a dim earnest of the calm

Which Nature breathes among the fields and groves?

***************************

Streakiness

John Ashbery

Passing the low bridge, one’s beads give vent

to a volley of abuse. The chestnut trees

shed their leaves one by one. Trying one

topic of conversation after another, the door

admitted visitors singly. Why not?

Was it for this we eschewed attention-getting

moments in the plaza after the sun

finished sulking? There were rabbits in the oasis

no one told us about, least of all

nougat merchants in close quarters. One

lullaby fits all. There is no clause in hearing,

only nimble perspective-gulping giants

or loneliness asserts itself, featureless

though picked out in pills of light.

— from A Worldly Country (© 2007 Estate of John Ashbery. All rights reserved. Used by arrangement with Georges Borchardt, Inc.)