Sunday Poetry - William Wordsworth

I've been reading Wordsworth's Sonnets of 1802 & I've decided I like the Wordsworth of these small, intimate poems. I've never been drawn to Wordsworth as I have to other Romantic poets. He always seemed rather a stuffy person, reneging on his radical youth to become a staid old man. Maybe Keats & Byron would have become staid too if they'd lived long enough.
I have Juliet Barker's biography of Wordsworth on the tbr shelves & a selection of his letters so I really should do some research. So for the next few weeks, I'll post a few of the 1802 Sonnets & read a little about his life.

With ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,
Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed;
Some lying fast at anchor in the road,
Some veering up and down, one knew not why.
A goodly vessel did I then espy
Come like a giant from a haven broad;
And lustily along the bay she strode,
Her tackling rich, and of apparel high.
The ship was nought to me, nor I to her,
Yet I pursued her with a lover's look;
This ship to all the rest did I prefer:
When will she turn, and whither? She will brook
No tarrying; where she comes the winds must stir:
On went she, and due north her journey took.