Favorite Poems Throughout My Life
81: “The World Is Too Much With Us,” 1807, by William Wordsworth (1770–1850)
“The world is too much with us; late
And soon, getting and spending”—oh,
These lines—this sonnet!—truly great—
A sonnet I just had to know!
And so I learned it—kind of fast:
This happens when the sense is clear—
And words like these are sure to last—
And so it is I hold them dear.
“Have glimpses that would make me less
Forlorn”—and so our Wordsworth nears
The end of all—and I would guess
That when he finished, there were tears.
How could you fail to weep a bit
When you have written such a thing?
And you must sit and savor it—
And weep because you’ve made words sing.