wordsworth seems to be feeling his way toward a balance: not the pure idea, wreathed in clouds, nor the visual image burned on the retina, overwhelming and disappointing us with its matter-of-fact clarity, but the sense image, kept as fleeting as possible, as a means towards stirring or activating the idea that lies buried more deeply in the soil of memory.
My mind is my worst enemy
You and me both Snoopy, you and me both.