A Poem For Saturday

Nov 3 2012 @ 9:12pm

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"The World Is Too Much with Us" 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!
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.

(Photo: A man wades through flood waters on Hylan Boulevard on Staten Island on October 30, 2012. By Victor J. Blue/Bloomberg via Getty Image)