Wordsworth did not write by using lofty, eloquent language, and great issues
and personalities as subjects. Unlike his contemporaries, he recognized that
good poetry is "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings," and
therefore nothing along the lines of strait-laced, stoic little old women, or
grandiose dining rooms. He wrote of bucolic life: not much was said, but never
were the important things left out. Life’s most elementary feelings were
revealed in the most permanent ways: ever-present in the surroundings.
Wordsworth’s aesthetic appreciation was not destroyed by his poetic vanity: he
finds no need to embellish his phrases for sophistication.
Common language served Wordsworth’s purpose well, for the simple words were
direct in their purpose. They expressed feelings that had been known and
repeated many times before, and therefore contained a certain durability. Being
concise was not a shortcut; it was the inevitable result of perceiving things
the way they truly were, and depicting them honestly. Nature did not need to be
invented or built up in his poems because it was in itself more wonderful than
anything could ever be imagined.
All that needed to be done was for him to be able to grasp it. As time passed,
he discovered that he was able to do so especially during great moments of
relaxation, following unusually powerful emotions. It was then, that mind and
heart could blend to produce pieces which brought vivacity to the senses.
As Wordsworth worked to revive the powers he felt as a child, he plunged into
his past. As a result, he was able to free himself of the time’s poetic
conventions and use pure language to compose testaments of the wonders of the
world around us.