Out of Tune

The World Is Too Much with Us
William Wordsworth

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.

 

He wrote this in 1802.

He’d never make it today.

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One thought on “Out of Tune

  1. …I think that some of the hipster elements of today’s society would flock to Wordsworth and make him the next “it” philosopher and he’d appear on Bill Maher’s show to certify his indie cred…

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