<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540088" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Personal Talk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I AM not One who much or oft delight<br>To season my fireside with personal talk.--<br>Of friends, who live within an easy walk,<br>Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight:<br>And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright,<br>Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk,<br>These all wear out of me, like Forms, with chalk<br>Painted on rich men's floors, for one feast-night.<br>Better than such discourse doth silence long,<br>Long, barren silence, square with my desire;<br>To sit without emotion, hope, or aim,<br>In the loved presence of my cottage-fire,<br>And listen to the flapping of the flame,<br>Or kettle whispering its faint undersong.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Yet life,' you say, 'is life; we have seen and see,<br>And with a living pleasure we describe;<br>And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe<br>The languid mind into activity.<br>Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and glee<br>Are fostered by the comment and the gibe.'<br>Even be it so; yet still among your tribe,<br>Our daily world's true Worldlings, rank not me!<br>Children are blest, and powerful; their world lies<br>More justly balanced; partly at their feet,<br>And part far from them: sweetest melodies<br>Are those that are by distance made more sweet;<br>Whose mind is but the mind of his own eyes,<br>He is a Slave; the meanest we can meet!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wings have we,--and as far as we can go,<br>We may find pleasure: wilderness and wood,<br>Blank ocean and mere sky, support that mood<br>Which with the lofty sanctifies the low.<br>Dreams, books, are each a world; and books, we know,<br>Are a substantial world, both pure and good:<br>Round these, with tendrils strong as flesh and blood,<br>Our pastime and our happiness will grow.<br>There find I personal themes, a plenteous store,<br>Matter wherein right voluble I am,<br>To which I listen with a ready ear;<br>Two shall be named, pre-eminently dear,--<br>The gentle Lady married to the Moor;<br>And heavenly Una with her milk-white Lamb,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">IV</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor can I not believe but that hereby<br>Great gains are mine; for thus I live remote<br>From evil-speaking; rancour, never sought,<br>Comes to me not; malignant truth, or lie.<br>Hence have I genial seasons, hence have I<br>Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous thought:<br>And thus from day to day my little boat<br>Rocks in its harbour, lodging peaceably.<br>Blessings be with them--and eternal praise,<br>Who gave us nobler loves, and nobler cares--<br>The Poets, who on earth have made us heirs<br>Of truth and pure delight by heavenly lays!<br>Oh! might my name be numbered among theirs,<br>Then gladly would I end my mortal days.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540088" data-title="Personal Talk de William Wordsworth" data-description="I I AM not One who much or oft delight To season my fireside with personal talk.-- Of friends, who live within an easy walk, Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight: And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright, Sons, mothers, maidens witheri..."></div> </div> </div>

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