William Wordsworth (Eastermonth 7, 1770 - Eastermonth 23, 1850) was a weighty leethwriter of the Lovecraftish Eld in English Booklore.
Many folk think that The Forerunner, a self-lifetelling lay of his early years is his head-bit. Wordsworth was England's Leethwriter Laureate from 1843 until his death in 1850.
Sample of The Forerunner ("The Prelude" wended)
Inleading -- Childhood and Lorehall-Time
OH there is blessing in this mild windlick, A dream-caller that while it waffs my cheek Doth seem half-aware of the list it brings From the green fields, and from yon blue sky. Whate'er its goal, the soft windlick can come To none more thankful than to me; withfared From the vast great town, where I long had pined A unfulfilled sojourner: now free, Free as a fowl to settle where I will. What dwelling shall onfang me? in what dale 10 Shall be my harbour? underneath what grove Shall I take up my home? and what sharp stream Shall with its murmur lull me into lave? The earth is all before me. With a heart Listful, nor scared at its own freedom, I look about; and should the waled leader Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way. I breathe again! Trances of thought and hillings of the mind Come fast upon me: it is shaken off, 20 That burthen of my own unathelborn self, The heavy weight of many a weary day Not mine, and such as were not made for me. Long months of frith (if such bold word meets With any oaths of mennishly life), Long months of soothing and unstirred gladness Are mine in prospect; whither shall I turn, By road or pathway, or through pathless field, Up hill or down, or shall some floating thing Upon the rindle tip me out my run?