mythweaver2025 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mythweaver2025) wrote2025-04-12 09:13 am
mythweaver2025) wrote2025-04-12 09:13 am
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Poetry at Random: William Wordsworth
Bemoaning the current state of things is clearly a long tradition - a verse from William Wordsworth that reflects on the state of the world...
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 wreathed horn.
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 wreathed horn.