London 1802

Still on the subject of Milton, this sonnet by William Wordsworth seems to me just as topical today as it was in 1802.

Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:

England hath need of thee; she is a fen

Of stagnant waters; altar, sword and pen,

Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,

Have forfeited their ancient English dower

Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;

Oh! raise us up, return to us again

And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.

Thy soul was like a star and dwelt apart;

Thou hads't a voice whose sound was like the sea;

Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,

So dids't thou travel on life's common way,

In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart

The lowliest duties on itself did lay.