Wordsworth did not write by using lofty, eloquent language, and great issues and personalities as subjects. Unlike his contemporaries, he recognized that good poetry is "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings," and therefore nothing along the lines of strait-laced, stoic little old women, or grandiose dining rooms. He wrote of bucolic life: not much was said, but never were the important things left out. Life’s most elementary feelings were revealed in the most permanent ways: ever-present in the surroundings.

Wordsworth’s aesthetic appreciation was not destroyed by his poetic vanity: he finds no need to embellish his phrases for sophistication.

Common language served Wordsworth’s purpose well, for the simple words were direct in their purpose. They expressed feelings that had been known and repeated many times before, and therefore contained a certain durability. Being concise was not a shortcut; it was the inevitable result of perceiving things the way they truly were, and depicting them honestly. Nature did not need to be invented or built up in his poems because it was in itself more wonderful than anything could ever be imagined.

All that needed to be done was for him to be able to grasp it. As time passed, he discovered that he was able to do so especially during great moments of relaxation, following unusually powerful emotions. It was then, that mind and heart could blend to produce pieces which brought vivacity to the senses.

As Wordsworth worked to revive the powers he felt as a child, he plunged into his past. As a result, he was able to free himself of the time’s poetic conventions and use pure language to compose testaments of the wonders of the world around us.