order of being encroaching upon the routine of everyday life. The memorable example there is the impression of a girl with a pitcher on her head, forcing her way painfully against a strong wind"an ordinary sight," perhaps, but one with extraordinary reverberations, an arrangement of unforgettable aesthetic intensity. But "spots of time"or psychological epiphaniesanimate the poem from the beginning and impel much of its sustained argument. Childhood episodes recalled in Book I, notably the stealing of a boat and the cliff-hung search for birds' eggs, inculcate a sudden but lasting response to the larger than human, all-encompassing presences of Nature. An encounter with a blind beggar in London offers the poet, bewildered and "lost" in the surging crowd, abrupt admonishment, as if "from another world,'' that we can know but little "of ourselves and of the universe."
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Most vividly of alland most distinctly in the sublime mode-the traveler in the Alps, disappointed that he has unknowingly passed the highest point and "lost" to further simple expectation, is suddenly struck by the magnificence of the Simplon Pass, where the tension of opposites, the static in the dynamic (the "woods decaying, never to be decayed" and the "stationary blasts of waterfalls") evokes the ultimate apocalyptic vision:
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| | The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, Black drizzling crags that spake by the way-side As if a voice were in them, the sick sight And giddy prospect of the raving stream, The unfettered clouds and region of the Heavens, Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light Were all like workings of one mind, the features Of the same face, blossoms upon one tree; Characters of the great Apocalypse, The types and symbols of Eternity, Of first, and last, and midst, and without end.
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The narrative of The Prelude moves not by story line but by links often quite prosaic between sharp impressions and poetic epiphanies. A relaxed tension or aimlessness like the "melancholy slackening" of pace that precedes the experience of the Simplon Pass is, even in some of Wordsworth's shorter poems, the precondition of the spot of time or of its recurrence through memory. The first line of the daffodil lyric "I
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