The Good Old Romantics...

The Last of the Flock

By: William Wordsworth

  In distant countries I have been,
  And yet I have not often seen
  A healthy man, a man full grown,
  Weep in the public roads alone.
  But such a one, on English ground,
  And in the broad high-way, I met;
  Along the broad high-way he came,
  His cheeks with tears were wet.
  Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;
  And in his arms a lamb he had.

  He saw me, and he turned aside,
  As if he wished himself to hide:
  Then with his coat he made essay
  To wipe those briny tears away.
  I follow'd him, and said, "My friend
  What ails you? wherefore weep you so?"
  --"Shame on me, Sir! this lusty lamb,
  He makes my tears to flow.
  To-day I fetched him from the rock;
  He is the last of all my flock."

  When I was young, a single man,
  And after youthful follies ran.
  Though little given to care and thought,
  Yet, so it was, a ewe I bought;
  And other sheep from her I raised,
  As healthy sheep as you might see,
  And then I married, and was rich
  As I could wish to be;
  Of sheep I numbered a full score,
  And every year increas'd my store.

  Year after year my stock it grew,
  And from this one, this single ewe,
  Full fifty comely sheep I raised,
  As sweet a flock as ever grazed!
  Upon the mountain did they feed;
  They throve, and we at home did thrive.
  --This lusty lamb of all my store
  Is all that is alive;
  And now I care not if we die,
  And perish all of poverty.

  Six children, Sir! had I to feed,
  Hard labour in a time of need!
  My pride was tamed, and in our grief,
  I of the parish ask'd relief.
  They said I was a wealthy man;
  My sheep upon the mountain fed,
  And it was fit that thence I took
  Whereof to buy us bread:
  "Do this; how can we give to you,"
  They cried, "what to the poor is due?"

  I sold a sheep as they had said,
  And bought my little children bread,
  And they were healthy with their food;
  For me it never did me good.
  A woeful time it was for me,
  To see the end of all my gains,
  The pretty flock which I had reared
  With all my care and pains,
  To see it melt like snow away!
  For me it was a woeful day.

  Another still! and still another!
  A little lamb, and then its mother!
  It was a vein that never stopp'd,
  Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd.
  Till thirty were not left alive
  They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,
  And I may say that many a time
  I wished they all were gone:
  They dwindled one by one away;
  For me it was a woeful day.

   To wicked deeds I was inclined,
  And wicked fancies cross'd my mind,
  And every man I chanc'd to see,
  I thought he knew some ill of me.
  No peace, no comfort could I find,
  No ease, within doors or without,
  And crazily, and wearily
  I went my work about.
  Oft-times I thought to run away;
  For me it was a woeful day.

  Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me,
  As dear as my own children be;
  For daily with my growing store
  I loved my children more and more.
  Alas! it was an evil time;
  God cursed me in my sore distress,
  I prayed, yet every day I thought
  I loved my children less;
  And every week, and every day,
  My flock, it seemed to melt away.

  They dwindled. Sir, sad sight to see!
  From ten to five, from five to three,
  A lamb, a weather, and a ewe;
  And then at last, from three to two;
  And of my fifty, yesterday
  I had but only one,
  And here it lies upon my arm,
  Alas! and I have none;
  To-day I fetched it from the rock;
  It is the last of all my flock.

 I liked this poem a lot. "The Last of the Flock", by William Wordsworth, was written in the heat of the French Revolution, in a time were liberty was what people wanted the most. This started the liberty part of the Romantic movement. Through poetry, Romantic authors wished to portray the feelings and the needs of the common man in a way accessible to all. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge, then, met with William Wordsworth and they released an anonymous book of ballads, caring not about their personal fame but about the effect it had on people. They were trying to return the dignity to common people, tired of the pyramidal hierarchy that gave importance only to the monarchs. For this reason, Wordsworth chose a simple man from a farm as the main focus of his poem "The Last of the Flock." 

The poem tells the story of the owner of a flock of sheep, who lived in happiness with the richness provided to him by the increasing size of the flock. He had 50 in the climax of his career, excited that he was able to feed his family of six children. However, Wordsworth's ballad becomes a sad tale as the farmer remembers how the number "dwindled" down until he had three, then two, then he was left with "the last of all [his] flock." 

The importance of this poem lies in the originality of basing it on a common person. The speaker of the poem realizes that a poor man is in pain, and he cares enough to stop and ask "what ails him." Wordsworth is proving that a common man is worth stopping for. Wordsworth also portrays the owner of the lamb as someone who is humble and hard working, highlighting the benefit of the working class within society. Not mentioning the monarchy or the french king in the entire poem, Wordsworth is focusing on the change taking place in the minds of the people about who is important and who deserved dignity. It could be read as a simple children ballad or song, but in reality, William Wordsworth's "The Last of the Flock" represents the social class that was left behind and transforms the order of significance of each level in society. Wordsworth is achieving quite and peaceful criticism, and I personally think it is highly effective.