Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

This scarce antiquarian book is a selection from Kessinger Publishing s Legacy Reprint Series Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment to protecting, preserving, and promoting the world s literature KessingerThis scarce antiquarian book is a selection from Kessinger Publishing s Legacy Reprint Series Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment to protecting, preserving, and promoting the world s literature Kessinger Publishing is the place to find hundreds of thousands of rare and hard to find books with something of interest for everyone
Ode Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood This scarce antiquarian book is a selection from Kessinger Publishing s Legacy Reprint Series Due to its age it may contain imperfections such as marks notations marginalia and flawed pages Because

  • Title: Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
  • Author: William Wordsworth
  • ISBN: 9781168709851
  • Page: 212
  • Format: Hardcover
  • 1 thought on “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood”

    1. I was once asked during an employment interview by a college provost early in my career what was the most influential book I had ever read. I did not hesitate and answered the works of William Wordsworth, especially "Intimations of Immortality." He looked at me with an inscrutable expression for a moment and went on to other questions. It was one of the few times that I have interviewed and did not get a job offer--doubtless my answer had little or nothing to do with that, but if asked the same [...]

    2. This is a very sad and even melancholy poem about life and its many stages and particular what is lost and left behind.

    3. "That dreamlike vividness and splendor which invest objects of sight in childhood , having regarded it as presumptive evidence of a prior of existence , I think it right to protest against a conclusion which has given pain to some good and pious persons, that I meant it to inculcate such a belief. It is far too shadowy a notion to be recommended to faith, as more than an element in our instincts of immortalitye fall of Man presents an analogy in its favor. Plato held the doctrine that the soul i [...]

    4. Favorite lines: "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: the soul that rises with us, our life's Star, hath had elsewhere it's setting, and comets from afar: not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come from God who is our home"

    5. Sometimes I think I will have this poem read in my funeral following Margaret Thatcher's example. It's beautiful, amazing, global, outstanding. I love it so that by now I can nearly recite it. I think this could be the best poem I've ever read. I love it. 5 stars!

    6. Life is fleeting. Some things remain after us because we leave legacies behind, but like the trees and the sunrises, we are temporary! Life is a thing of beauty.

    7. wonderful. you see, as someone unsullied by earthly genealogy, it's nice to hear it from another orphan ;)

    8. I feel such a deep connection to this poem because of Wordworth's love of nature but more importantly, the spiritual aspect that I found to be embedded throughout the work. Wordworth's Ode is about loss and grief of an earlier, more purer existence as we leave the magical, divine-like stage of our infancy and grow into humans obsessed with earthy materials, leaving us questioning our soul's purpose and why is it that we seem to loose our true Self in the process of growing up?Wordsworth saw natu [...]

    9. --But there's a Tree, of many, one,A single Field which I have looked upon,Both of them speak of something that is gone:The Pansy at my feetDoth the same tale repeat:Whither is fled the visionary gleam?Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

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