Saturday, March 7, 2015

The world is too much with us

Too much work (the painting looks great)

Followed by too much food (the tacos were great). 

Followed by too much Dodge Ball (O God, I'm so sweaty, but it was great). 

Followed by too much reflection (those insights were great). 

Followed by too much desire for ice cream (it will be great, Fr. Bill, we'll be right back). 

After dinner dodgeball 

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
                         William Wordsworth 

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