Poem by William Wordsworth

Sonnet Written in London, September, 1802

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. 

1. Upon the Sight of a Beautiful Picture Painted by Sir G. H. Beaumont, Bart
2. To the Memory of Raisley Calvert
3. Alice Fell, Or Poverty
4. The Sparrow's Nest
5. Ellen Irwin, Or the Braes of Kirtle

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