per amica silentia lunae

or, across the ferny brae with the evil voodoo celt

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word(sworth)
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"THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US; LATE AND SOON"

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!
The 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.

-Wordsworth, 1806.


Well, although I'm a pagan my creed isn't outworn. And I'd rather/be more likely to see Manannan Mac Lir than Proteus.

But, yeah, I feel like that far too often these days.


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