y of the personal attributes of
nature. In some of his more elevated passages nature in all her
processes is regarded as the intimate revelation of the Godhead, the
radiant garment in which the Deity clothes Himself that our senses may
apprehend Him. Thus, when we touch a tree or a flower we may be said to
touch God himself. In this way the beauty and power of nature become
sacred for Wordsworth, and inspired his verse at times with a solemn
dignity to which other poets have rarely attained.

The immanence of God in nature, and yet His superiority to His own
revelation of Himself is beautifully expressed in some of the later
verses of _Hart Leap Well_:

"The Being, that is in the clouds and air,
That is in the green leaves among the groves,
Maintains a deep and reverential care
For the unoffending creatures whom he loves."

Yet the life in nature is capable of multiplying itself infinitely, and
each of her manifold divisions possesses a distinctive mood; one might
almost say a separate life of its own. It is, in his ability to capture
the true emotional mood which clings to some beautiful object or scene in
nature, and which that object or scene may truly be said to inspire, that
Wordsworth's power lies.

Wordsworth possessed every attribute necessary to the descriptive
poet,--subtle powers of observation, ears delicately tuned to seize the
very shadow of sound, and a diction of copious strength suggestive beyond
the limits of ordinary expression. Yet purely descriptive poetry he
scorned. "He expatiated much to me one day," writes Mr. Aubrey de Vere,
"as we walked among the hills above Grasmere, on the mode in which Nature
had been described by one of the most justly popular of England's modern
poets--one for whom he preserved a high and affectionate respect
[evidently Sir Walter Scott]. 'He took pains,' Wordsworth said; 'he went
out with his pencil and note-book, and jotted down whatever struck him
most--a river rippling over the sands, a ruined tower on a rock above it,
a promontory, and a mountain-ash waving its red berries. He went home
and wove the whole together into a poetical description.' After a pause,
Wordsworth resumed, with a flashing eye and impassioned voice; 'But
Nature does not permit an inventory to be made of her charms! He should
have left his pencil and note-book at home, fixed his eye as he walked
with a reverent attention on all that surrounded him, and taken all into
a hear