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William Wordsworth

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-gather'd 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.

 
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About the poet
William Wordsworth
 
By the same poet
Desideria
Upon Westminster Bridge
The Reaper
Daffodils
Lucy (i)
Lucy (ii)
Lucy (iii)
Lucy (iv)
Lucy (v)
Evening on Calais Beach
On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, 1802
England, 1802 (i)
England, 1802 (ii)
England, 1802 (iii)
England, 1802 (iv)
England, 1802 (v)
Perfect Woman
Ode to Duty
The Rainbow
The Sonnet (i)
The Sonnet (ii)
Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood
Valedictory Sonnet to the River Duddon
Mutability
The Trosachs
Speak!
 
Related books
William Wordsworth at amazon.com


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