PERSONAL TALK
Reading edition
Composed 1806.—Published 1807
[Written at Town-end, Grasmere. The last line but two stood, at first, better and more characteristically, thus:—
"By my half-kitchen and half-parlour fire."
My sister and I were in the habit of having the tea-kettle in our little sitting room; and we toasted the bread ourselves, which reminds me of a little circumstance not unworthy to be set down among these minutiæ. Happening both of us to be engaged a few minutes one morning when we had a young prig of a Scotch lawyer to breakfast with us, my dear Sister, with her usual simplicity, put the toasting fork with a slice of bread into the hands of this Edinburgh genius. Our little book-case stood on one side of the fire. To prevent loss of time, he took down a book, and fell to reading, to the neglect of the toast, which was burnt to a cinder. Many a time have we laughed at this circumstance, and other cottage simplicities of that day. By the bye, I have a spite at one of this series of Sonnets (I will leave the reader to discover which) as having been the means of nearly putting off for ever our acquaintance with dear Miss Fenwick, who has always stigmatized one line of it as vulgar, and worthy only of having been composed by a country squire.—I. F.]
In 1815, this was classed among the "Poems proceeding from Sentiment and Reflection." From 1820 to 1843, it found a place among the "Miscellaneous Sonnets," and in 1845 was restored to its earlier one among the "Poems of Sentiment and Reflection."—Ed.
I
I am not One who much or oft delight To season my fireside with personal talk,— Of[1] friends, who live within an easy walk, Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight: And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright, 5 Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk,[A] These all wear out of me, like Forms, with chalk Painted on rich men's floors, for one feast-night. Better than such discourse doth silence long, Long, barren silence, square with my desire; 10 To sit without emotion, hope, or aim, In the loved presence of my cottage-fire,[2] And listen to the flapping of the flame, Or kettle whispering its faint undersong.
II
"Yet life," you say, "is life; we have seen and see, 15 And with a living pleasure we describe; And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe The languid mind into activity. Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and glee Are fostered by the comment and the gibe." 20 Even be it so: yet still among your tribe, Our daily world's true Worldlings, rank not me! Children are blest, and powerful; their world lies More justly balanced; partly at their feet, And part far from them:—sweetest melodies 25 Are those that are by distance made more sweet;[B] Whose mind is but the mind of his own eyes, He is a Slave; the meanest we can meet![C]
III
Wings have we,—and as far as we can go We may find pleasure: wilderness and wood, 30 Blank ocean and mere sky, support that mood Which with the lofty sanctifies the low. Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know, Are a substantial world, both pure and good: Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood, Our pastime and our happiness will grow. 36 There find I personal themes, a plenteous store, Matter wherein right voluble I am, To which I listen with a ready ear; Two shall be named, pre-eminently dear,—[3] 40 The gentle Lady married to the Moor;[D] And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb.
IV
Nor can I not believe but that hereby Great gains are mine; for thus I live remote From evil-speaking; rancour, never sought, 45 Comes to me not; malignant truth, or lie. Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous thought: And thus from day to day my little boat Rocks in its harbour, lodging peaceably. 50 Blessings be with them—and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares— The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays! Oh! might my name be numbered among theirs, 55 Then gladly would I end my mortal days.
The text of the poem was little altered, and was fixed in 1827. It had no title in 1807 and 1815.
The reading of 1807,
my half-kitchen my half-parlour fire,
was a reminiscence of Dove Cottage, which we regret to lose in the later editions.
In the Baptistery of Westminster Abbey, there is a statue of Wordsworth by Frederick Thrupp of great merit, placed there by the late Dean Stanley, beside busts of Keble, Maurice, and Kingsley. Underneath the statue of Wordsworth are the four lines from Personal Talk—
Blessings be with them—and eternal praise, Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares— The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays!
Dean Stanley found it difficult to select from Wordsworth's poems the lines most appropriate for inscription, and adopted these at the suggestion of his friend, Principal Shairp.—Ed.
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