Dorothy Wordsworth was a brilliant writer. Although admired by many in the literary circles of her time, she never considered herself a poet. She said “I should detest the idea of setting myself as an author”. She was writing to please her brother William. She enjoyed a happy early childhood interrupted by the lost of her mother when she was seven. During that time, her father had been often busy on business had to send her to live with distant relatives, and her brothers away for school. She was later reunited with her brother William with whom she shared her passion for writing. She became very ill in 1829. She suffered from dementia and Alzheimer’s disease in 1935. Before she died, she wrote a poem entitled Thoughts on My Sick-bed. She seemed to really enjoy her life experiences including the gift of writing. She also suggested that she never sought the gifts that she was blessed with. “Ah! Say not so-the hidden life couchant within this feeble frame hath been enriched by kindred gifts, that, undesired, unsought-for”. The verse insinuates the way she now sees herself on her death-bed and comparing it with her younger days.
At first, it was difficult to understand whether she felt like she lived a fulfilled life. It seems as if as she was doing something that she did not really care about. The aforementioned verse affirmed my beliefs that she felt a sense of pride for her accomplishment.
4 comments:
Claude,
(Because this post missed the deadline, there is a late penalty on the grade.)
Good background material on Dorothy Wordsworth, and some good observations on one of her poems: "Thoughts on My Sickbed." I am glad to see quote a specific passage, but i would like to see more analysis of the words and images in it.
I too, Bloggd on this poem. I felt like she was really alive, and attempting to take advantage of it the best she could because of her situation. In the poem she described a type of flower that is very resilient, I thought it was a mirror image of herself. She was resisting death.
While she is talking about being on her death bed, she could be feeling so many emotions. Like regret- for not living her life better or maybe sadness- that her life was over and possibly relief that her life was over
I didn't blog this particular poem, but I did like the work from Dorothy Wordsworth. Death is a topic that i don't like to read much about because it can be quite sad. For her to write while she was ill and facing death is beautiful to me. I give her much respect and I'm glad to see you write about her.
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