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.

Explanation

[This is an extract from the poem entitled “The World is too much with us.” In the pursuit of money and material possessions we have ceazed to appreciate the beauty of Nature. In order to come closer to Nature the poet is ready to renounce Christianity and accept Paganism wherein all forms of nature are worshipped as different gods.
Meanings—Sordid boon—a hard bargain, up-gathered—hushed up Pagan—follower of an old non-Christian religion, outworn—archaic, dead, less forlorn , less lonely, Proteus—Seagod, Triton—god of woods.]