‘I may be allowed to remark, perhaps,’ said Mr. Banneret, in a judicial tone of voice, ‘that we are wandering from the direct path in discussing the abstract question of a poet’s freedom from care bearing upon the quality of his work. As to the quantity, it may, and no doubt would, make a serious deduction if at breakfast time the singer or seer was uncertain as to the periodicity of dinner. But I am inclined to think that, as to quality, the enforced abstinence and lack of material comfort were distinctly favourable to the “divine afflatus.”’
‘That being so,’ said Reggie, ‘and I am inclined to agree with you, sir, we ought to address ourselves to the practical side of our undertaking. Before we make a start for Rydal Mount we are bound to inaugurate the worship of the Poet by the ladies repeating some of his lovely lyrics. We must put it to the vote, and whoever gains the largest number must recite the poem which she deems to be the most distinctly representative of the Poet’s genius? Who is the Wordsworth [383] ]scholar of the party? and what does the lady assert to be one of the Poet’s lyric triumphs?’
The voting was in favour of Mrs. Banneret. That lady confessed that she had not been an exhaustive student of the poet under discussion, or indeed of any other—had not had time of late years. But in an old scrap-album of her girlhood’s days might be found several of his poems, which she had copied out. One which she still remembered was ‘The Fountain.’
‘It always appeared to me,’ she said, ‘most truly representative of Wordsworth’s sympathy with Nature; of his power of investing the most ordinary incidents with
‘The gleam,
The light that never was, on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet’s dream—
almost with a sacred simplicity, but still appealing to the heart as ornate phrases rarely succeed in doing. I still remember the opening verses of
‘THE FOUNTAIN
‘We talked with open heart, and tongue