…For I have learned
To look on nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of humanity,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue. And I have felt
A presence that disturbs me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man.

William Wordsworth goes on a walk to visit Tintern Abbey, an old ruined abbey in the Welsh country in Britain. There's a lot of beautiful landscape around. Poetry ensues.

Here's Willy Wordsworth showing/telling/describing the experience of the sublime. As we can see, it's all about nature. Wordsworth experiences the sublime when he is looking on nature, on the "light of setting suns," and the "round ocean and the living air."

The sublime is a "presence that disturbs me with the joy/ Of elevated thoughts." Are we noting the paradox here? The sublime is disturbing, but its also joyful. It's scary and it's wonderful all at once.

Wordsworth's language is pretty simple (and this simple, conversational language is what he was going for in Lyrical Ballads), but he still manages to convey something of the mystery of the sublime. It's a "presence" that can't be named exactly, but it can be felt in the "settings suns," the "round ocean," and the "living air."