Ramblin' on my mind
Ramblin' on my mind
On Saturday I went out walking in the hills and woodlands near Tintern Abbey. I'd been supposed to reread Wordsworth's poem inspired by the location, but I only got about halfway through it.
It's over ten years since I first encountered the Romantic poets, and my copy of the anthology we used then has pencil marginal notes in what presumably used to be my handwriting. My literary opinions haven't changed nearly as much; back then my twenty-something self found Wordsworth's poetry underwhelming in both technique and content, and my thirty-something self concurs.
This is particularly ironic in that the poem is concerned with changes of aesthetic response as a function of age. But don't write off Wordsworth yet! Ten years ago I would probably have reacted to the suggestion of a nice walk in the countryside (eight miles!) with violent refusal, rather than today's grudging acquiescence. And the view was OK, I suppose, if you like that sort of thing.
Maybe I am growing up, at least a little.