On April 7th 1770 William Wordswoth, founding father of the Romantic Poets was born. Thinking about that fact took me to this:
Alone, Not Lonely
Drifting aimlessly cloud-like through life
Of no fixed abode, no heart to call home
no love to rest the weary head upon
is this the life that I have chosen?
‘Tis easily seen as such, methinks
by those who know me not in truth
but this course is full of joy and love
and the heart forever at home is full
A host dancing brings forth a terror
unbridled glee and exuberance
send me running for the hills and o’er
the clamour of the party instilling only fear
A fear that the smile looks weak or worse
that I will not smile at all and all at once
the inquisition begins, pray tell us all, do say
why are you so alone? are you not lonely this way?
Do you not crave a tender soul to share it all?
must you sit apart and so aloof? won’t you dance?
But, no I cry, you see it wrong. I am not lonely
Not all, I am content with myself, happy in my world
What to your misguided eye looks like loneliness
is simply my chosen solitude and quite not the same
for as I wander o’er the hills and dales and wonder
at each sight in turn, my happiness overflows
My joy knows no bounds, my heart is full yet free
do not confuse being alone for loneliness, my dear
nor solitude for isolation, for I am never quite so
my mind, my soul, my words recall all natural delights
And so it is dear reader, at least so it is for me
The solitary path is one chosen with care
and laying no burden upon any passing soul
I move freely on, content to be just as I am.