In 1798, William Wordsworth returned to the Wye Valley and revisited the ruins of Tintern Abbey after just five years from his first appearance, not just physically, but emotionally. The poem he wrote in response, Lines Composed in Early Spring at Tintern Abbey, marks a turning point where memory, landscape, and language merge to create something like personal repair. Unlike the fiery protest in Blake’s work, Wordsworth’s art resists in a quieter way; by holding onto stillness and turning inward in a rapidly changing world. This wasn’t just a poem about pretty trees, but a meditation on how art rooted in memory can preserve a self that feels fragmented by time. Wordsworth reflects on how the sight of the river Wye, once experienced in youth, now brings a deeper, more thoughtful calmness in adulthood. In writing his peice, he builds a poetic space that holds what was lost and what remains. This reflection matters because it shows how art becomes a way to revisit and reframe rather than escape. Where Blake used art to confront injustice, Wordsworth used it to tend to internal disorder. Art doesn't need to shout to matter. Wordsworth's lines offer a vision of art as healing: not because it solves anything, but because it gives shape to the act of remembering.

Photo: "The Chapel of St Peter at Goodrich Castle, Herefordshire" by kitmasterbloke is licensed under CC BY 2.0.