Quote by: 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 wreathed horn.

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Author Bio

  • NameWilliam Wordsworth
  • DescriptionEnglish Romantic poet
  • BornApril 7, 1770
  • DiedApril 23, 1850
  • CountryUnited Kingdom
  • ProfessionPoet; Writer
  • WorksThe Prelude