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)
Book First
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?