A few years ago I was working on a project with three other artists. Our focus was creating an exhibit that through our art reflected how cultural influences and pressures have become like a cacophony of sound that batter us into submission. In the planning of that exhibit I came across this wonderful poem by William Wordsworth. Even though he wrote the poem in 1807, it seems every bit as appropriate to us in our world today. Enjoy...
"The World is Too Much With Us"
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 wreathed horn.
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