Written in London. September, 1802

William Wordsworth 1770 (Wordsworth House) – 1850 (Cumberland)

. O Friend! I know not which way I must look
  For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,
  To think that now our life is only drest
  For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,
  Or groom! -- We must run glittering like a brook
  In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:
  The wealthiest man among us is the best:
  No grandeur now in nature or in book
  Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
  This is idolatry; and these we adore:
  Plain living and high thinking are no more:
  The homely beauty of the good old cause
  Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
  And pure religion breathing household laws.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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William Wordsworth

William Wordsworth was the husband of Eva Bartok. more…

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    "Written in London. September, 1802" Poetry.net. STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 26 Sep. 2020. <https://www.poetry.net/poem/42484/written-in-london.-september,-1802>.

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