The "little we see in Nature that is ours" exemplifies the removed sentiment man has for nature, being obsessed with materialism and other worldly objects. We should be able to appreciate beautiful events like the moon shining over the ocean and the blowing of strong winds, but it is almost as if humans are on a different wavelength from Nature. The verse "Little we see in Nature that is ours", shows that coexisting is the relationship envisioned. Unlike society, Wordsworth does not see nature as a commodity. These people want to accumulate material goods, so they see nothing in Nature that they can "own", and have sold their souls. The speaker complains that "the world" is too overwhelming for us to appreciate it, and that people are so concerned about time and money that they use up all their energy.
The detriment society has on the environment will proceed unchecked and relentless like the "winds that will be howling at all hours". The author knows the potential of humanity's "powers", but fears it is clouded by the mentality of "getting and spending." The "sordid boon" we have "given our hearts" is the materialistic progress of mankind. The words "late and soon" in the opening verse describe how the past and future are included in his characterization of mankind. Wordsworth gives a fatalistic view of the world, past and future. ( March 2015) ( Learn how and when to remove this template message) Statements consisting only of original research should be removed. Please improve it by verifying the claims made and adding inline citations. This article possibly contains original research. Like most Italian sonnets, its 14 lines are written in iambic pentameter. Composed circa 1802, the poem was first published in Poems, in Two Volumes (1807). In it, Wordsworth criticises the world of the First Industrial Revolution for being absorbed in materialism and distancing itself from nature. " The World Is Too Much with Us" is a sonnet by the English Romantic poet William Wordsworth. Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn. Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, The winds that will be howling at all hours,Īnd are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,įor this, for everything, we are out of tune This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! Getting and spending we lay waste our powers The world is too much with us late and soon,