Resolution and Independence

by William Wordsworth

The famous poem "Resolution and Independence" by William Wordsworth.

Genres: Poetry, Classics, College, British Literature, Romanticism, 19th Century, Read For School

7 pages, Kindle Edition

First published August 5, 2012

About the author

William Wordsworth (1770-1850) was a major English romantic poet who, with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, helped launch the Romantic Age in English literature with their 1798 joint publication, Lyrical Ballads.

Wordsworth's masterpiece is generally considered to be The Prelude, an autobiographical poem of his early years, which the poet revised and expanded a number of times. The work was posthumously titled and published, prior to which, it was generally known as the poem "to Coleridge". Wordsworth was England's Poet Laureate from 1843 until his death in 1850.

Reviews

[Cal A. · Rating 5 out of 5]

What an outstanding, multifaceted command of the English language. Not only are the diction and syntax on another level but the meaning speaks deeply to me. Oftentimes we artists fall too deep into our darkness that we drag others down into ours without meaning to, like a Leech. Our views are so obscured in despair that we assign our own meanings to things that just “are,” such as nature or calm, happy people. This poem helps you get out of your dark place for ten minutes and just breathe…even laugh at yourself a bit.

[My Little Forest · Rating 3 out of 5]

# Nowhere Man by The Beatles is playing non-diegetically whilst the Wordsworth siblings are strolling by the moor, taking everything in (including the elder 'Leech-gatherer' man) #

Cf. Dorothy's The Grasmere Journals (for busy readers, turn to: Friday, 3rd October 1800).

[Deer ✧.* · Rating 3 out of 5]

3/5 ⭐️

“My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,
As if life's business were a summer mood;
As if all needful things would come unsought
To genial faith, still rich in genial good;”

[Preetam Chatterjee · Rating 5 out of 5]

The poem begins with the portrayal of a gorgeous morning. All the way through the night there was a fierce storm accompanied by a heavy downpour. But the morning rose rash and clear, the sun appeared calm and bright, and the birds sang sweetly from the woods. The stock dove, the jays and the magpies with their sweetened voices and chattering sounds made the atmosphere happy and agreeable. The low whispering of the neighboring brook, as it flowed along, provide a background of happiness. The living creatures were all up and active. The drops of water glistening on the grass reflected the bright rays of the rising sun. The hare, full of joy, frisked about. When it ran about the muddy ground, the particles of water which were thrown up seemed to follow the animal like a thin cloud of mist. On such a beautiful morning, the poet went out for a walk. It was then that he saw the hare frisking about and heard the flow of the distant stream. He felt exceedingly happy. In that delightful mood, he forgot everything else, except the beauty of the scene and the agreeableness of the weather. In his that state of mind, he could not think of anything else. He forgot the sad and foolish thoughts and actions of the mass of people. But the joy he felt was transitory. Presently, he became melancholy. From the heights of delight, he had plunged into the nadirs of distress. Many an imaginary fear gripped his mind. He could not explain either the change that came over him or the cause of his sadness. The singing skylark and the frisking hare did thrill him, and he became one with them in their happiness. Rid of the cares and uncertainties of the world, he felt that his contentment was complete. But thoughts about solitude poverty and mental distress overwhelmed him at that moment. He thought that he, too, might have to suffer such things in future. The poet had always been in a happy mood. He had fully believed that faith in God and sincere friendship towards men would keep him happy forever. But now he began to doubt the truth of such convictictions. He could not depend on others for his happiness and future comfort. His happiness should depend upon his own efforts. He knew that he had not provided for his future, having spent his life in idle enjoyment. He disbelieved very much whether others would help him when he stood in need of such help. He thought about the young poet, Chatterton, who in spite of his greatness came to a very sad end. In his pride he had committed suicide. Burns, the great Scottish poet, lived the life of a farmer. He was a happy man and yet he died disappointed and in bad health at the age of thirty-seven. Wordsworth thought that youth was a period of happiness for the poets, but that late on they became gloomy and distressed. While Wordsworth indulged in such sad thoughts he happened to see a very old man standing near a pool close by. The old man had snow white hair. Whether he appeared there by chance or as an instrument of God could not be learned. He was like a huge rock on the top of a hill whose position and appearance made it look like a sea monster enjoying the sunlight. The old man too had simply come to be there. No explanation was possible about him. Even in his extreme old age he seemed to be doing something. He was bent double with age. He looked as if he were hunch-backed, as if some great discomfort was oppressing him. He supported his body on a long piece of pine-wood. Wordsworth approached him gently. The old man, however, remained motionless as a cloud unaffected by the wind blow. The poet saw him moving about and trying to collect something from the surface of the water with his stick. Wordsworth opened conversation with him by asking him whether the day was not a glorious one.

This is exactly why you should read the poem even in 2024. Ponder upon the retort of the old man. The old man graciously replied to the question. But when he was asked what he was doing in that lonely place, the old man, with eyes which revealed mild surprise, frailly answered. The words that he used were apt, expressive and dignified as the speeches of the serious religious preachers of Scotland. He was not able to do any substantial work, and yet he had to earn his living. He was gathering leeches. It was a very tiresome work and not a profitable one either, to go to various ponds and to collect leeches. It was, however, an honest life and the way he went about it in spite of handicaps, filled Wordsworth with great admiration for him. The old man went on talking. But the poet could neither understand his meaning nor attend to him carefully. Slowly the figure of the old man seemed to vanish from his view. The poet felt that the old leech gatherer was some unknown messenger of God, imparting to him the message of resolution and independence. While thinking thus, the old cynical thoughts came back to him. Perplexed by such conflicting emotions, he once again asked the old man about his work and way of life. With a smile on his lips, the leech-gatherer reminded him of the reply he had already given. He was gathering leeches in order to support himself. The leeches were once plentiful in those parts. But there were very few left. And yet, notwithstanding their scarcity he continued collecting them, because there was nothing else that he could honestly do for a living. Wordsworth sympathised with the old man in his poverty and in his troubles. He was himself very much troubled at heart and the loneliness of the place added to his gloom. He saw before his mind’s eye the complications experienced by the good old man. The Leech gatherer talked again in a more cheerful manner. His dignified bearing cheerfulness infected the poet also. He prayed for God’s help and promised, whenever he felt gloomy and afflicted to think of the humble leech-gatherer in that lonely moor. He learned a lesson the need for the spirit of resolve and individuality in the midst of deficiency, old age and travail.

A most haunting poem. Please give it a try. Read it aloud to your children.

[Sadia Mansoor · Rating 4 out of 5]

But how can He expect that others should
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

Wow... such powerful lines (Y)

[Nimisha · Rating 3 out of 5]

This poem accurately discerns writer's block, because I too have found myself succumbing to insanity and seeking such experiences that spark my creative energy. However, in the end, he says that the leech-gatherer's resolution and independence to lead a life of dignity and perseverance makes him doubt and scoff at his own troubles. I believe that no matter how small or big the event is, the emotions we experience are real. So, there is no point in saying that you do not deserve to feel sad just because your neighbour smiles in the face of a stronger defeat. The last step is, of course, pulling up our socks, but everyone's suffering is valid.

[Yumeko (blushes) · Rating 5 out of 5]

I forgot to add it to my read list for 2025, I read a selected works and critical study for Wordsworth and found the poems very delightful. I hadn't been exposed to Wordsworth as many others seemed to have been through school curriculum. It was refreshing to read someone write about what's outside us when we're so caught up with our loves and melancholy.