Where everybody knew everybody, and everybody's father had known everybody's father, the interest of man in man was not likely to become a matter of cold hearsay and distant report.
When death knocked at any door in the hamlet, there was an echo from every fireside, and a wedding dropt its white flowers at every threshold.
There was not a grave in the churchyard but had its story; not a crag or glen or aged tree untouched with some ideal hue of legend.
It was here that Wordsworth
learned that homely humanity which gives such depth and sincerity to his poems.
Travel, society, culture, nothing could obliterate the deep trace of that early training which enables him to speak directly to the primitive instincts of man. He was apprenticed early to the difficult art of being himself.
At school he wrote some task-verses on subjects imposed by the master, and also some voluntaries of his own, equally undistinguished by any peculiar merit.
But he seems to have made up his mind as early as in his fourteenth year to become a poet.1
‘It is recorded,’ says his biographer vaguely, ‘that the poet's father set him very early to learn portions of the best English poets by heart, so that at an early age he could repeat large portions of Shakespeare
, and Spenser
The great event of Wordsworth
's school-days was the death of his father, who left what may be called a hypothetical estate, consisting chiefly of claims upon the first Earl
of Lonsdale, the payment of which, though their justice was acknowledged, that nobleman contrived in