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anonymous

  • 4 years ago

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 wr

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  1. anonymous
    • 4 years ago
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    give me d summary

  2. anonymous
    • 4 years ago
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    Lovely. Are you able to make sense of any part of it? Have you given it a try? Which lines do you get, where do you begin to get lost? Writing like this, that is so dense and different from what you encounter in your ordinary life, takes some time to get used to. And it takes work, particularly at first.

  3. anonymous
    • 4 years ago
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    the stanza that starts with the pagan

  4. anonymous
    • 4 years ago
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    That last part means something like this . . . I'd rather be a pagan, raised in that old belief (a belief that no longer holds today), so that I might, standing in this sweet meadow, catch brief moments that would make me less sad, less alone -- I might see Proteus, rising up from the sea, or hear old Triton blow his horn circled with flowers. That's more or less the idea, though I had to fiddle with the syntax. Proteus and Triton are both gods from Greek mythology, gods of the sea. Proteus could change his shape (hence our adjective "protean"). Triton was the son of Poseidon, the highest god of the sea, brother of Zeus. In the Roman pantheon, Triton was basically Neptune. So the point is (considering the poem from within the poem), the poet is weary of his world. He feels we waste our time, waste our possibilities, by being engaged always in "getting and spending." We are disconnected from nature, seeing now little in it that is ours, little in it that has to do with us, little that is part of us and our lives. We have given our hearts away (to commerce, to the dailyness of things, to the cities, perhaps); we are "out of tune" with the natural world. And so he longs for the past, for a time when men walked the earth who believed in the gods, for a time when the world was big and grand and very real, and we were a part of that. We had a different, much closer relationship with the natural world in those days, he feels, and we would have been happier then, more robust, more alive. Stepping outside the poem, looking at the poem from my own perspective, I'd say that through the lens of this moment of melancholy and dissatisfaction with the present-day world, he is looking to the past for inspiration. This mood of his colors everything he sees as he looks around him, and the world he lives in seems smaller and less rich, less vivid, than what he reads in say, Homer or the other Greek poets.

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