William Wordsworth COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE poem analysis | Dorothy Wordsworth's JOURNAL | Compares writing about Westminster Bridge by William and Dorothy Wordsworth. Analysis of Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, comparing William Wordsworth’s poetry & Dorothy Wordsworth’s journal entry about the same event, looking especially at paradox. Lecture includes contextual information about the symbolism of Westminster Bridge, Romanticism’s & Wordsworth’s conception of sublime nature, & London as the heart of industry, politics, religion, the arts, & law (“Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples”).
Wordsworth poetry / Wordsworth analysis / William Wordsworth poem analysis / Romanticism poem analysis
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Dorothy Wordsworth journal
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Composed Upon Westminster Bridge analysis
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William Wordsworth poem analysis
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Dorothy Wordsworth journal
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Romanticism poem analysis
William Wordsworth Composed Upon Westminster Bridge analysis
Wordsworth Composed Upon Westminster Bridge analysis
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge analysis
William Wordsworth analysis
Dorothy Wordsworth
William Wordsworth
Wordsworth analysis
Wordsworth
Wordsworth poem analysis
William Wordsworth poetry analysis
William Wordsworth poem analysis
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge
Dorothy Wordsworth journal
William and Dorothy Wordsworth
Romanticism poem analysis
William Wordsworth Composed Upon Westminster Bridge analysis
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge analysis
William Wordsworth analysis
Dorothy Wordsworth analysis
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge analysis
POEM (William Wordsworth Composed Upon Westminster Bridge)
Earth has not any thing to show more fair
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill
Ne'er saw I never felt a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep
And all that mighty heart is lying still
JOURNAL (Dorothy Wordsworth)
we left London on Saturday morning at 1/2 past 5 or 6, the 31st of July (I have forgot which). We mounted the Dover Coach at Charing Cross. It was a beautiful morning. The City, St Paul’s, with the River and a multitude of little Boats, made a most beautiful sight as we crossed Westminster Bridge. The houses were not overhung by their cloud of smoke and they were spread out endlessly, yet the sun shone so brightly with such a pure light that there was even something like the purity of one of nature’s own grand spectacles. We rode on cheerfully