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Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury. 1875.

William Wordsworth

CCXII. London, 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 handiwork 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.