The Song of the Soul
When I finished reading the “ Tintern Abbey” for the first time, I was
totally moved by the beautiful words and scenery the author described in the poem, and I would say it’s more like a song, a song of the nature and
a song of the soul.
William Wordsworth is a poet of romanticism, most of his poems are about the nature and so does this one. In this poem, he tries to express his attitude toward the external world of nature and to show the effect of nature upon his life and philosophy. His style of expression remains me of my favorite Chinese pastoral poet TaoYuanming, and I find many sentences in their poems which achieve the same effect by different approaches.
“these pastoral farms, green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke sent up, in silence, from among the trees!” Right after I read these lines,
the Chinese verse“暧暧远人村;依依墟里烟” came into my mind, both of
the two versions are like a picture of the peaceful leisurely country life, from which I guess the two people of different time and different country may have the same passionate love for a piece of pure land. Sometimes, even common people like me want to get out of the way of the world to release themselves, let alone those great figures. “In hours of weariness,
sensations sweet, felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; and passing even into my purer mind, with tranquil restoration.” It seems that nature
to the author is what water to the fish, nature can cure his pains and purify his soul, when he was out of the door, he was never less alone than when alone.
And when comes to the words the author used to express his inside feelings, like “The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by. To me was all in all. -- I cannot paint what then I was.” It again remains of TaoYuanming’s “此中有真意;欲辨已忘言.”
The green grass, fresh air of the countryside wakened his body, recalled his happy memory of the childhood, but this kind of feelings are hard to say out only by words, it can just be dug out in a certain place of a certain time when the sensitive heart is touched by something really soft and interiorized.
Actually, I have much more to say about the poem “Tintern Abbey” ,
but language is too powerless in front of thoughts of the inner heart. So I would just stop here to leave more space for my imagination…