written in london september 1802 by william wordsworth - ghizela rowe lyrics
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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 fеarful innocence
and pure rеligion breathing household laws
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