49
By easy boldness, Nature's works are known,
Her vot'ry's wonders should be like her own.
As from each subject thoughts unnumber'd grow,
So, thoughts provided, words of course will flow.
Toil his abhorrence, ornament his scorn,
No high wrought speech our Minstrel's thoughts adorn.
Rebels, he cries, to nature, fools of art,
Skill'd to pervert the taste, not move the heart,
Whoe'er ye are, that venture to defile
The pure conceit with misnam'd charms of style.
Those base utensils of the rhyming trade,
But mar the beauty they pretend to aid.
Oh sweet Simplicity! of rustic mien,
Whose household phrase is heard on village green[1];
Her vot'ry's wonders should be like her own.
As from each subject thoughts unnumber'd grow,
So, thoughts provided, words of course will flow.
Toil his abhorrence, ornament his scorn,
No high wrought speech our Minstrel's thoughts adorn.
Rebels, he cries, to nature, fools of art,
Skill'd to pervert the taste, not move the heart,
Whoe'er ye are, that venture to defile
The pure conceit with misnam'd charms of style.
Those base utensils of the rhyming trade,
But mar the beauty they pretend to aid.
Oh sweet Simplicity! of rustic mien,
Whose household phrase is heard on village green[1];
- ↑ Mr. Wordsworth's theory leads him to choose low and
