get me my words worth, Wordsworth—
as I amble along from Ambleside, in this early fall
the letters floating and emoting, in a gurgling stream they call
with “o’er’s” and “thee’s” dropped from sycamore trees
their words, the chants on a Cumbrian breeze
and whispers from his Lady of the Lake
tell me now that it’s my chance to take
to the new word trick
it seems that long ago the poet’s test
was romantic love and nature’s best
so I catch one here, I snatch one there
at Grasmere, words are everywhere
they aren’t just dusty bugs in my ears
but modern drugs from bygone years
and I scoff at the new-age critic
I want to get my words worth, Wordsworth
could your Lakes inspire me, please?
Coleridge calls me cum laudanum
infusing spirit and opium dreams
I want to get my words worth, Wordsworth
I need some lines to write
I want to tell the story
and with imagery, delight
this fell is ripe with smells so green
for lover types that love this scene
your black waters hide the history
reflecting lines of mystery
such that I breathe deep to my bones
ascending these steep paths of stones
into the new mist slick
old rock walls hold back ancient sheep
ladders climb them with legs that leap
into wet X’s at the top and I stop
to gaze at the District’s color shop
now shades of orange, some flower red
his blades of brown where lambs once fed
is the new growth thick
in a daze, I come upon a seagull white
in this pike’s gray and misty light
I throw a rock and almost hit it
but feel relief that I had missed
and squawking, the gull flies off
I’m glad, for it could have been my albatross
and the new words wouldn’t be picked
I want to get my words worth, Wordsworth
could your Lakes inspire me, please?
Coleridge calls me cum laudanum
infusing spirit and opium dreams
I want to get my words worth, Wordsworth
I see your sacred wild
I absorb it in my make up
when I taste it for awhile
and Coleridge calls cum laudanum
infusing spirit and opium dreams
so I end up with some words worth, Wordsworth
with old words new, it seems
troysherdahl 