A print series by Maggie LaNoue
The World is too much with us; late and soon,
Sonnet: "The World Is Too Much With Us" by William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
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.
Dunes - print
Other pieces in this series are:
Index and ordering information: click
Each print is:
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Last updated 10/22/95 / Maggie LaNoue / email@example.com