Nutting Analysis

---------------------It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung,
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps
Tow'rd some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,
Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds
Which for that service had been husbanded,
By exhortation of my frugal Dame--
Motley accoutrement, of power to smile
At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,--and, in truth,
More ragged than need was! O'er pathless rocks,
Through beds of matted fern, and tangled thickets,
Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation; but the hazels rose
Tall and erect, with tempting clusters hung,
A virgin scene!--A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and, with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
The banquet;--or beneath the trees I sate
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been blest
With sudden happiness beyond all hope.
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves
The violets of five seasons re-appear
And fade, unseen by any human eye;
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam,
And--with my cheek on one of those green stones
That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep--
I heard the murmur and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,
The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash
And merciless ravage: and the shady nook
Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being: and, unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past;
Ere from the mutilated bower I turned
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky--
Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand
Touch--for there is a spirit in the woods.

.: correction :.

The post on 11-11-04 is misplaced... The approved guest is making reference to "Tintern Abbey," not "Nutting."

| Posted on 2008-05-16 | by a guest

.: :.

This poem is ripe with sexual imagery. The description of a man going out to gather nuts is a metaphor for a man's joy when he learns that the object of his affection is ready to receive her. He goes to her and pleasures her, and the diction is sweet and lilting. However, the imagery then takes a turn for the more violent and the diction becomes aggressive as the man pulls back and then takes the woman and has his way with her. At the end, there is a sense of regret, but the satisfied lust for power outweighs that for the most part. In the last three lines, he suggests that everything comes at a price; there is a spirit lurking in the woods that knows what he has done, and this spirit has no doubt seen many a grievous wrong commited in the woods. Power comes, but at a price.

| Posted on 2005-09-28 | by Approved Guest

.: :.

Even in the present moment, the memory of his past experiences in these surroundings floats over his present view of them, and he feels bittersweet joy in reviving them. He thinks happily, too, that his present experience will provide many happy memories for future years. Wordsworth acknowledges that he is different now from how he was in those long-ago times, when, as a boy, he "bounded o'er the mountains" and through the streams. He used to think that nature was the made up world with waterfalls and woods, however since he has returned here he now believes that it is something more powerful and subtle than of what it was when he was a boy.
Wordsworth believes that however he felt he would still be happy as he is with his ‘dear dear’ sister which I believe to be nature as his reputation states. He believes that nature is impervious to "evil tongues," "rash judgments," and "the sneers of selfish men," instilling instead a "cheerful faith" that the world is full of blessings. Wordsworth then encourages the moon to shine upon his sister, and the wind to blow against her, and he says to her that in later years, when she is sad or fearful, the memory of this experience will help to heal her. And if he himself is dead, she can remember the love with which he worshipped nature.

| Posted on 2004-11-11 | by Approved Guest