The World is Too Much With Us; Late and Soon

By William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)

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 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.

Notes:         

1. A "lea" is a pasture or grassland. It is pronounced "lee" or "lay".

2. This poem is from 1806.