The World Is Too Much With Us
THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US
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!
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 every thing, 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 wreathed horn.
Chicago: William Wordsworth, The World Is Too Much With Us Original Sources, accessed November 2, 2024, http://originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=2N1TP4531CK1R9R.
MLA: Wordsworth, William. The World Is Too Much With Us, Original Sources. 2 Nov. 2024. http://originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=2N1TP4531CK1R9R.
Harvard: Wordsworth, W, The World Is Too Much With Us. Original Sources, retrieved 2 November 2024, from http://originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=2N1TP4531CK1R9R.
|