It was in reading Wordsworth years ago that I learned that the ancient division between philosophy and poetry is a false one, and that both, rightly seen and wholeheartedly pursued, are ultimately convergent trajectories of the human spirit. Wordsworth is the quintessential philosophical poet, I think. His work best displays what contribution poetry can offer to philosophy in the search for wisdom.
It was especially his Preface to his Lyrical Ballads, and some of the poems contained therein, that articulated for me a concept of both knowledge and of truth - "truth as an invisible friend and hourly companion" - that seemed more primordial as well as being closer to home than any other I had encountered by that time. It was where I first realized that truth is a thing to be lived, a trivial ornament to the ego if it does not illuminate and direct our day-to-day walk through life. Here is one of the passages that rang bells for me, right from the horse's mouth:
“The knowledge both of the Poet and the Man of science is pleasure; but the knowledge of the one cleaves to us as a necessary part of our existence, our natural and unalienable inheritance; the other is a personal and individual acquisition, slow to come to us, and by no habitual and direct sympathy connecting us with our fellow-beings. The Man of science seeks truth as a remote and unknown benefactor; he cherishes and loves it in his solitude: the Poet, singing a song in which all human beings join with him, rejoices in the presence of truth as our visible friend and hourly companion. Poetry is the breath and finer spirit of all knowledge; it is the impassioned expression which is in the countenance of all Science. Emphatically may it be said of the Poet, as Shakespeare hath said of man, ‘that he looks before and after.’ He is the rock of defence for human nature; an upholder and preserver, carrying everywhere with him relationship and love. In spite of difference of soil and climate, of language and manners, of laws and customs: in spite of things silently gone out of mind, and things violently destroyed; the Poet binds together by passion and knowledge the vast empire of human society, as it is spread over the whole earth, and over all time. The objects of the Poet’s thoughts are everywhere; though the eyes and senses of man are, it is true, his favourite guides, yet he will follow wheresoever he can find an atmosphere of sensation in which to move his wings. Poetry is the first and last of all knowledge—it is as immortal as the heart of man.”
I would only add that philosophy+poetry, as records of the knowledge by which we live, together f
make up "the first and last of all knowledge," as well as together forming the kind of knowledge that constitutes "the rock of defence for human nature" even in times which we have forgotten the meaning of the word "human."
What kind of insight does poetry record? I think poetry models perspectives that are more encompassing than the one we usually see the aspect of things by. To understand poetry is to recreate, leap into, and internalize, the perspective the poem models. It isn't "merely" a theoretical system you can look at from a remove; it is an invitation to add to your own lenses another's, and to expand thereby your capacity for making a meaningful unity out of experience. Now, I can see that Wordsworth in this understanding is just a part of a larger buried tradition. Here's Blake: “As a man is, so he sees. As the eye is formed, such are its powers.” The business of poetry, as each of them conducts it, is to form the eye, and thereby transform the whole personality, our experience, and, in doing so, to deepen our relation to our world. It is to dig wisdom deeper into the living flesh of the person, to bring it home, as it were, so that it transforms the way we see and so that it doesn't remain for us a mere compartmentalized acquisition distanced from our motivational and affective core. Reading Wordsworth's poetry, as a meditative exercise, can make insight effective into our lives by integrating it into our everyday way of looking at the world.
A prerequisite for this kind of transmission of wisdom is, of course, empathic identification with another's experience in order to expand our own capacity for experience. And as Schopenhauer pointed out, compassion is the basis of morality. Exercising our capacity for compassionate identification with another's point of view means more fully participating in what it means to be a full human being.
Wordsworth is another one of those underrated educators (in that he's appreciated as a purveyor of lofty but idle aesthetic exercises, not as someone with something to teach about being human, at least not outside the literature departments). Yet he is someone who can teach us to tap into capacities for relating to our world that we didn't know we had. In doing so, he gives us more, richer, and deeper material to reflect on. Poetry plants the lush garden of experience that philosophy reflects on, prunes and organizes. I am starting to think, more and more, that both philosophy and poetry are needed for the full realization of the human psyche's powers to perceive, to experience, and to understand its experience. Reading these poems a decade ago is what, I think, first planted the seeds of this insight.