Page 62 of Wizard of Most Wicked Ways

I was in the library today, reading through a collection of poetry, and I came across a poem that made me think of you. It is by William Wordsworth, entitled “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood.” I am aware that the purpose of the poem is to contemplate growth gained from maturity, and to gaze upon life from the perception of an older man. And yet it brought your face to mind in nearly every verse. So I thought I would share it.

Below, she had copied the entirety of the poem—pages of it, all by hand. He marveled at it, wondering how long it had taken to do so, feeling his own hand cramp at the thought of the labor. He read it slowly, wondering, and immediately felt connection to the words.

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,

The earth, and every common sight,

To me did seem

Apparelled in celestial light,

The glory and the freshness of a dream.

Other segments stood out to him, too, and he read those twice, sometimes three times, as he worked his way through the piece. Many of the same segments Cora had underlined, as though knowing they would connect with him.

To me alone there came a thought of grief:

A timely utterance gave that thought relief,

And I again am strong ...

His eyes skipped ahead to each underlined passage.

Whither is fled the visionary gleam?

Where is it now, the glory and the dream? ...

The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting ...

Some fragment from his dream of human life,

Shaped by himself with newly-learnd art

A wedding or a festival,

A mourning or a funeral;

And this hath now his heart,

And unto this he frames his song ...

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie

Thy Soul’s immensity . . .

O joy! that in our embers

Is something that doth live ...

Blank misgivings of a Creature

Moving about in worlds not realised ...

Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make

Our noisy years seem moments in the being

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