Too Much

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 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 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 from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

In this sordid boon of an election season, when we’ve given our souls away to get and spend power, it’s good to have it followed by a super moon.

The super moon is just the moon being closer to Earth than usual, so it’s unusually bright and large. We have perfect fall weather here, clear and crisp. It’s beautiful to go out; breath the clean clear cool air in deeply and look at the huge moon and think about another world.

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