The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This 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 rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
William Wordsworth
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2 comments:
This is one of the few poems I ever memorized. I did it in college days, back in the 1970s.
Your selection of this poem to comment on economic woes speaks to Wordsworth's eternal relevence.
I do like "Daffodils," too, which describes what's important in the long run.
I love that "late and soon". That is just so descriptive of ... well, life.
A
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