Introduction

Lyrical Ballads is a collection of poems which is written by two great poets of their time William Wordsworth ; Samuel Taylor Coleridge, its first edition was first published in the 1798. The most of the poems in Lyrical ballads were written by Wordsworth, four poems were contibuted by Coleridge including his most famous poem "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner". The lyrical ballad is said to have begun the movement of romanticism in english poetry, the basic idea was to take the art of poetry into the reach of common people, in aspect of language and feelings. Its Second Edition was published in 1800, contains some more poems by wordsworth, in this edition Wordsworth also added a preface in which he discribed his thoughts and understanding on poetry. The Lyrical Ballads holds a very important place in english literature, as it significantly tried to change the course of English Poetry and made it to be easily understood by common people. Here I am posting both the 1st and the 2nd edition of Lyrical Ballads, which are freely available on many places on internet. This blog is my tribute to the William Wordsworth and his Lyrical Ballads.

A Poet's Epitaph

Art thou a Statesman, in the van
Of public business train'd and bred,
--First learn to love one living man;
_Then_ may'st thou think upon the dead.

A Lawyer art thou?--draw not nigh;
Go, carry to some other place
The hardness of thy coward eye,
The falshood of thy sallow face.

Art thou a man of purple cheer?
A rosy man, right plump to see?
Approach; yet Doctor, not too near:
This grave no cushion is for thee.

Art thou a man of gallant pride,
A Soldier, and no mail of chaff?
Welcome!--but lay thy sword aside,
And lean upon a Peasant's staff.

Physician art thou? One, all eyes,
Philosopher! a fingering slave,
One that would peep and botanize
Upon his mother's grave?

Wrapp'd closely in thy sensual fleece
O turn aside, and take, I pray,
That he below may rest in peace,
Thy pin-point of a soul away!

--A Moralist perchance appears;
Led, Heaven knows how! to this poor sod:
And He has neither eyes nor ears;
Himself his world, and his own God;

One to whose smooth-rubb'd soul can cling
Nor form nor feeling great nor small,
A reasoning, self-sufficing thing,
An intellectual All in All!

Shut close the door! press down the latch:
Sleep in thy intellectual crust,
Nor lose ten tickings of thy watch,
Near this unprofitable dust.

But who is He with modest looks,
And clad in homely russet brown?
He murmurs near the running brooks
A music sweeter than their own.

He is retired as noontide dew,
Or fountain in a noonday grove;
And you must love him, ere to you
He will seem worthy of your love.

The outward shews of sky and earth.
Of hill and valley he has view'd;
And impulses of deeper birth
Have come to him in solitude.

In common things that round us lie
Some random truths he can impart
The harvest of a quiet eye
That broods and sleeps on his own heart.

But he is weak, both man and boy,
Hath been an idler in the land;
Contented if he might enjoy
The things which others understand.

--Come hither in thy hour of strength,
Come, weak as is a breaking wave!
Here stretch thy body at full length
Or build thy house upon this grave.--

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