Frontline Poetry
A socialist perspective on some great poems throughout history... The Prelude A favourite pleasure hath it been with me From time of earliest youth to walk alone Along the public way, when, for the night Deserted, in its silence it assumes A character of deeper quietness Than greater solitudes. At such an hour Once, ere these summer months were passed away, I slowly mounted up a steep ascent Where the road’s wat’ry surface, to the ridge Of that sharp rising, glittered in the moon And seemed before my eyes another stream Creeping with silent lapse to join the brook That murmured in the valley...