Background notes
Questions to consider when reading the Romantic poems
Check some further information about this document as a txt file.
Sources: Romantic Circles, S. T. Coleridge and Wordsworth
Samuel Coleridge, "Kubla Khan" (1798)
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
      A stately pleasure-dome decree;
      Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
      Through caverns measureless to man
      Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
      With walls and towers were girdled round;
      And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills
      Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
      And here were forests ancient as the hills,
      Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But O, that deep romantic chasm which slanted
      Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
      A savage place! as holy and enchanted
      As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
      By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
      As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
      A mighty fountain momently was forced;
      Amid whose swift, half-intermittent burst
      Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
      Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail.
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
      It flung up momently the sacred river.
      Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
      Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
      Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
      And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
      And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
      Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
      Floated midway on the waves;
      Where was heard the mingled measure
      From the fountain and the caves.
      It was a miracle of rare device,
      A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
      In a vision once I saw.
      It was an Abyssinian maid,
      And on her dulcimer she played,
      Singing of Mount Abora.
      `Could I revive within me
      Her symphony and song,
      To such a deep delight 'twould win me
      That with music loud and long,
      I would build that dome in air,
      That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
      And all who heard should see them there,
      And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
      His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
      And close your eyes with holy dread,
      For he on honey-dew hath fed,
      And drunk the milk of Paradise.
William Wordsworth, "The Solitary Reaper" (1807)
Behold her, single in the field,
      Yon solitary Highland Lassl
      leaping and singing by herself;
      Stop here, or gently passl
      Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
      And sings a melancholy strahl;
      O listen for the Vale profound
      Is overflowing with the sound.
      No Nightingale did ever chaunt
      More welcome notes to weary bands
      Of travellers in some shally haunt,
      Among Arabian sands:
      A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
      In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
      Breaking the silence of the seas
      Among the farthest Hebrides.
      Will no one tell me what she sings?
      Perhaps the plaintive numbers Row
      For old, unhappy, far-off things,
      And battles long ago:
      Or is it some more humble lay,
      Familiar matter of to-day?
      Some natural sorrow, loss, or pails,
      That has been, and may l e again?
Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang
      As if her song could have no ending;
      I saw her singing at her work,
      And o'er the sickle beating:
      I listened, motionless and still;
      And, as I mounted up the hill,
      The music in my heart I bore,
      Long after it was heard no more.
William Wordsworth, "I Wandered Lonely As a Cloud" (1807)
I wandered lonely as a cloud
      That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
      Wheel all at once I saw a crowd,
      A host, of golden daffodils;
      Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
      Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
      And twinkle on the milky way,
      They stretched in never-ending line
      Along the margin of a bay:
      Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
      Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
      Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
      A poet could not but be gay,
      In such a jocund company:
      I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
      What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
      In vacant or in pensive mood,
      They flash upon that inward eye
      Which is the bliss of solitude;
      And then my heart with pleasure fills,
      And dances with the daffodils.
Percy Bysshe Shelley, "Remorse" (1814)
Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon.
      Rapid clouds have drank the last pale beam of even;
      Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon.
      And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.
Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries, Away!
      Tempt not with one last tear thy friend's ungentle mood:
      Thy lover's eye, so glazed and cold, dares
      not entreat thy stay: Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.
Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;
      Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;
      Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,
      And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.
The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head: The blooms of dewy spring shall gleam beneath
      thy feet:
      But thy soul or this world must fade in
      the frost that binds the dead,
      Ere midnight's frown and morning's smile,
      ere thou and peace may meet.
The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,
      For the weary winds are silent, or the
      moon is in the deep: Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;
      Whatever moves, or toils, or grieves,
      hath its appointed sleep.
Thou in the grave shalt rest--yet till the phantoms flee
      Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile,
      Thy remembrance, and repentance, and deep
      musings are not free From the music of two voices and the light of one sweet smile.
John Keats, "Ode to a Nightingale" (1819)
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
      My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
      Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
      One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
      'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
      But being too happy in thine happiness,--
      that thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,
      In some melodious plot
      Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
      Singest of summer in full-throated case.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
      Cooled a long age in the deep-delved earth,
      Tasting of Flora and the country green,
      Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!
      O for a beaker full of the warm South,
      Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
      With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,
      And purple-stained mouth;
      That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
      And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
      What thou among the leaves hast never known,
      The weariness, the fever, and the fret
      Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;
      Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
      Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
      Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
      And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
      Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
      Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
      But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
      Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
      Already with thee! tender is the night,
      And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
      Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
      But here there is no light,
      Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
      Through verdurous glooms anti winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
      Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
      But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
      Wherewith the seasonable month endows
      The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
      White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
      Fast fading violets covered up in leaves;
      And mid-May's eldest child,
      The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
      The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
      I have been half in love with easeful Death,
      Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
      To take into the air my quiet breath;
      Now more than ever seems it rich to die,
      To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
      While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
      In such an ecstasy!
      Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain--
      To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
      No hungry generations tread thee down;
      The voice I hear this passing night was heard
      In ancient days by emperor and clown:
      Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
      Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
      She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
      The same that oft-times hath
      Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam
      Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
      To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
      Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
      As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
      Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
      Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
      Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
      In the next valley-glades:
      Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
      Fled is that music: Do I wake or sleep?
