101 Poems, Number 81

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.

Link to poem.