№ 329: The World's Still Too Much With Us (but maybe not for long)

In the early 19th century, Wordsworth wrote several sonnets blasting what he perceived as “the decadent material cynicism of the time.” “The World Is Too Much with Us” is one of those works. It reflects his view that humanity must get in touch with nature to progress spiritually. The rhyme scheme of this poem is a-b-b-a, a-b-b-a, c-d-c-d, c-d. This Italian or Petrarchan sonnet uses the last six lines (sestet) to answer the first eight lines (octave). The first eight lines (octave) are the problem and the next six (sestet) is the solution.

— Wikipedia

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 wreathèd horn.

(so, with apologies to Mr. W.)

For whatever the word's worth, the Earth is

still with us. Although it may not be much

longer what with our fossil-fueled nonesuch

giving the atmosphere halitosis,

pushing the planet close to sclerosis

with our too greedy and unthinking touch,

always grinding the gears, ignoring the clutch.

Ocean thrombosis shows what comatose is.

“Getting and spending” has made us wealthy

(and healthy!) for over two centuries.

So you'd have to have bats in your belfry

to think we'd stop doing whatever we please.

So long as the status quo profits me,

I can not see it as a disease.

[updated 5/8/2018 11:11 am]