MORNING POEM - From William Wordsworth

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FROM 'THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US'

 

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;

 

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH