Around 1991, the poet William Wordsworth’s house had the opportunity to see the view of the beautiful large garden and the lake full of natural beauty adjacent to the house. My two girlfriends Emily and Georgina were with me. Emily’s parents’ house was there. The main purpose of visiting the Lake District was to see the poet Wordsworth’s house.
As soon as we entered the Kabir’s house through the main gate, each of us was asked what was our nationality and what was our mother tongue. At first I did not understand what could be the reason. A little later the woman returned with 3 frames written in English, Russian and Bengali. The lady gave Emily a frame written in English, Georgina in Russian and me in Bengali. Bound in frames are descriptions of the poet’s house and his garden in different languages. The woman said that she has descriptions of the poet’s house in 47 languages.
Describes the whereabouts of the poet’s home, who lived where…his sister Dorothy, and his daughter Dora. Kabir’s house is very ordinary. It is understood that the poet did not pay much attention to houses and furniture. Household furniture is very common. Nowhere is there a touch of excess or abundance. It is understood that he lived a very simple life.
His writing room was also furnished with very simple furniture. The chair in which he used to write is still there. A very simple table and chairs. It seems that the poet wrote here a little while ago. An open window in front of his sitting area. Sitting there, you can see the lovely garden stretching far away. It can be understood that he is a poet of nature. He loved nature with all his heart. Abundance was his horizon in gardens and valleys.
You have to be impressed by the garden of the house. One can tell that he is a poet of nature, his gardens, valleys and plants. I looked around the garden. A garden full of small and big trees. A wild feeling all over the valley. It seems that the ‘Lucy Gray’ of his poem will come out of the forest now. From above it is seen that the waterfall has gone down. The sound of the fountain can be heard. He owns several houses in the Lake District. Among them, it has been kept as a museum.
The small village of Rydal is located in the English Lake District. Rydal Water is a small lake in Cumbria, North West England. This small village is built next to it. Poet William Wordsworth spent the last few years of his life here at Rydal Mount (the poet’s home). This small village is best known for the poet’s house. He spent the rest of his life here from 1813 to 1850. The poet’s house has been used as the Wordsworth Museum for many years.
William Wordsworth was born in Cumberland in 1770. The place is rich in lakes. He has been familiar with the Lake District lifestyle since his childhood. In 1787, the poet went to Cambridge University to study and then spent 12 years traveling around Britain and Europe. In 1813 he moved to Rydal Mount, because of his extended family and his visitors. Spend the last years of life i.e. till the age of 80 here.
Both Grasmere and Windermere lakes could be seen from the hilly grounds of Rydal Mount. The poet himself designs his garden. The garden was his favorite place to write. He built a writing hut at a high place in the garden. From there he could see his gardens and lakes. Here he spent most of his time writing. The bare hut was basically a bench and a roof to protect him from the rain when he ran away from home to take up residence here to write.
Dora Wordsworth was the poet’s only surviving daughter. Dora’s childhood inspired the poet to write “Address To My Infant Daughter”. While the poet was still alive, his beloved daughter Dora passed away at the age of 42. After Dora’s death, he dedicated a valley of daffodils near Rydal Mount to his daughter. Named Doras Field (Dora’s Field). Still every spring the beautiful daffodils bloom all over the valley and remind us of a father’s love for his daughter. The daffodil heads swayed little by little in the gentle breeze…reminds me of his famous poem The Daffodils.
Image: Collected from net.
For the convenience of the readers, I present the poet’s famous poem “Daffodil”.
by William Wordsworth
I wander’d lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed – and gazed – but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.