The World Is Too Much With Us by William Wordsmith
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 William Wordsmith’s The World Is Too Much With Us, the reader follows the musing of a speaker who believes themselves to be a part of the material world, but ultimately rejects it in favor of a more metaphysical splendor through nature. This poem traverses through themes of distance from nature to conclude that while we should try our best to resist apathetically falling victim to the easy, instantly gratifying tenets of capitalism, we must not lose ourselves or the real world in it.
The poem is primarily written from the perspective of an individual from western Europe or one of its previous or current colonies due to the way they speak of paganism. Considering the poet’s position as a Romanticist, this detail is critical to analyzing how the major themes are constructed through various techniques such as enjambment, stark contrasts, and repetition. There isn’t any particular setting besides a country undergoing early industrialism, yet all of the characters except for the speaker are anachronistic. Personified versions of nature and the sea, Proteus, and Triton are made to stick out in the speaker’s reality. This is because the world is changing mostly due to materialism. The speaker believes that they and humanity are losing touch with nature in favor of abandoning their true state.
There is no dialogue. However, the speaker’s passionate yet angry tone is established through charged diction such as “sordid” (line 4), “howling” (line 6), and “forlorn” (line 12), and exasperated exclamations like “Great God!” (line 9) shaped into a Petrarchan sonnet makes the poem feel like a bellowing declaration of frustration. The speaker is disgruntled by everyone falling prey to the vapid, hyper-consumerism that defines their environment. However, as they are also a part of this world, this allows the reader to conclude that a degree of self-loathing underlines their words, too.
They’re powerless to their circumstances except to keep creating and finding beauty in those who create and remember their foremother—the sea where all things derive their power even in the moon who moves her tides. The speaker states, “...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,” (lines 9-12). However, the zealously cantankerous tone proves that they’re not too far off from converting.
They know the deities by name because they have known the sea and moon all their life. This hints at the acknowledgement of these deities being emblematic of a larger loyalty to one’s natural self. Nature does not perform abnormally or react any differently to the change in humanity. However, the Sea has become a caregiver to the moon that should be controlling her tides because people have forgotten its worth beyond her and all they can take from her. Proteus and Triton—a soothsayer for the sea and a herald of its changing waves—seem to act on their behalf. This hints at a possible punishment or grand disturbance.
The first four lines detail the primary problem and its source, and begs the question, who is the recipient of humanity’s “sordid boon” (line 4)? The next four show strange occurrences as a result of humanity’s vanity, and assert that because of this they are in discord. Even if that is humanity’s inherent state, “It moves [them] not,” (line 9). However, the speaker refuses to remain complicit in vanity, so they would rather turn to paganism to continue creating and seeing beauty in the world than become a leach-like pragmatist. The final two lines are declarations that despite the world’s discord, nature and those who appreciate life’s beauty will rise and bring a new era. In a similar vein, the first line’s ending antithesis “late and soon,” (line 1) and the next line’s “getting and spending,” (line 2) contrast each other and illustrate the nature of transactional relationships.
Everything is too much because it’s happening all the time, all at once. “For this, for everything,” (line 8) demonstrates a similar relationship that creates over-stimulation at excess. For the events currently happening, and for all that has happened, humanity will always be in discord. The repeated helping verb, “have,” is notable because not only are auxiliary verbs often accompanied by action verbs—which these are not—the subjects of the clauses are the Sea’s helpers, and even in their help are providing a commodity. This twinge of self-interest furthers the speaker’s previously established self-loathing and conflict with their peers. Additionally, the phrase, “out of tune,” (line 8) is notable because it suggests that there is a way to be, “in tune.” Yet the previous parallelism shows that the speaker doesn’t think there was ever a time when humanity was “in tune.” Similarly, “suckled in a creed outworn,” is a statement that (line 10) the speaker cannot understand the full scope of beyond a romantic notion of progress because they are already too grown to forget all that came before and was taught to them.
The action verb is a call back to the Sea bearing her breasts to the moon, seemingly for the same purposes. However, the moon—like the speaker—is fully grown, and cannot receive true support from the Sea. The speaker can’t even return to paganism like they want to, because their understanding of it no longer exists and is a tired notion, it is “outworn” (line 10). And they’re fully aware, but still desperate. Enjambment is used to create a sense of movement which dramatizes the zealously cantankerous tone, and adds nuance to fragmented lines such as, “It moves us not. Great God! I’d rather be” (line 9). In the next line the speaker says that they would rather be a pagan, but the cut off here also insinuates that they wish they could retreat from society all together. Or at least become something entirely different. However, they understand that this cowardice would be exemplifying the vanity of those who have grown apathetic to nature, just in a different way.
All in all, the speaker knows their insistences are contradictory. They just don’t care. They want change. They want to return to a knowingly idealized past that they never even knew. All of these devices in syntax and diction are ultimately used to create the concession that despite this awareness, the passion is real and purposeful. To reject nature and the simple beauty of life in favor of capitalistic values would only derogate humanity and leave everyone miserable. Even the title amplifies meaning by literally making the poem feel like it’s too much. It practically gushes out of the page if you don’t take everything line by line. But the moment any clause is left without punctuation it becomes infinitely open ended.
Although we may be attached to its disorderliness, it’s not how we’re meant to be. And eventually, nature will reclaim our bodies and the earth we walk on and the waters we drink from.