"The world is too much with us" by William Wordsworth -- Shelby Nutter

"The world is too much with us" by William Wordsworth

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 bears 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 form the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.

Last year in British Literature, we studied this poem, and because I really enjoyed it, I decided to pick it to memorize. The language is beautiful, but I found myself more drawn to the passion which Wordsworth conveys in this Italian sonnet. This topic is something I feel a propinquity to because even though he wrote the poem in 1807, I see its effects in 2015. Wordsworth grieves that we, as a human race, overwhelm the beauty of the earth and do not pay it the respect it deserves. We have become so concentrated on ourselves that we no longer possess the heart or the ability to be affected by the wonders of the world.

Memorizing this poem was slightly challenging due to some unusual word order. Instead of "we lay waste to our powers", Wordsworth writes "we lay waste our powers"; and additionally this is not a commonly used phrase. "Little we see in nature" instead of "We see little in nature", "up-gathered" to replace "gathered up", and "it moves us not" in substitution for "we are not moved" are a few more examples of Wordsworth's unconventional syntax.

This poem is brimming with notable details and moments that could be easily overlooked. Personally, however, every time I read this poem, the line that jumps out at me is "for this, for everything, we are out of tune". After a list of nature imagery, Wordsworth laments that humanity is in a whole other key from the world. We are so entranced in our own affairs that "for everything" we are detached. The beauty and wonder of nature are unable to change us because the industrialization of the world consumes all our attention. Not only nature but everything else that could amaze us is lost.

This poem gives me a sense of nostalgia for lost humanity; we are capable of so much more, being a part of nature that is so much greater than us, but we ignore it.