17:38

5.38pm


The World is too much with us

The World is too much with us, late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste out powers:
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given out hears away, a sordid Boom!
The Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The Winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. - Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.


William Wordswoth
1770-1850