Cab’s all toasty,
Top speed thirty,
— Trucker Poet
Bitter Cold William Wordsworth
Several months aftwer Wordsworth died, his widow Mary published “The Prelude”. This lengthy autobiographical poem to Coleridge produced little interest at that time. Only years later did people recognize the work as his masterpiece.
Sonnet 24 – October 1803
Six thousand Veterans practis'd in War's game, Tried Men, at Killicranky were array'd Against an equal Host that wore the Plaid, Shepherds and Herdsmen.--Like a whirlwind came The Highlanders, the slaughter spread like flame; And Garry thundering down his mountain-road Was stopp'd, and could not breathe beneath the load Of the dead bodies. 'Twas a day of shame For them whom precept and the pedantry Of cold mechanic battle do enslave. Oh! for a single hour of that Dundee Who on that day the word of onset gave! Like conquest would the Men of England see; And her Foes find a like inglorious Grave.
Bitter Cold – Stepping Westward
While my Fellow-traveller and I were walking by the side of Loch Ketterine, one fine evening after sun-set, in our road to a Hut where in the course of our Tour we had been hospitably entertained some weeks before, we met, in one of the loneliest parts of that solitary region, two well dressed Women, one of whom said to us, by way of greeting, "What you are stepping westward?" _"What you are stepping westward?"--"Yea_." --'Twould be a wildish destiny, If we, who thus together roam In a strange Land, and far from home, Were in this place the guests of Chance: Yet who would stop, or fear to advance, Though home or shelter he had none, With such a Sky to lead him on? The dewy ground was dark and cold; Behind, all gloomy to behold; 10 And stepping westward seem'd to be A kind of _heavenly_ destiny; I liked the greeting; 'twas a sound Of something without place or bound; And seem'd to give me spiritual right To travel through that region bright. The voice was soft, and she who spake Was walking by her native Lake: The salutation had to me The very sound of courtesy: 20 It's power was felt; and while my eye Was fixed upon the glowing sky, The echo of the voice enwrought A human sweetness with the thought Of travelling through the world that lay Before me in my endless way.