The world is too much with is; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waster our powers;
Little we see in nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
The 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 every thing, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled on in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
— William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
«0 CommentsJuly 3, MMV»
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More!? OK then, but I can't help feeling that this will be a disappointment to you.
I work as a web designer in Belfast, and I live by the sea in a shoe. You can see me here, doing my livejournal pose as idoru called it. If you need to you can email me at carisenda -at- gmail -dot- com.