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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; (1)
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, (2)
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus (3) rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton (4) blow his wreathed horn.
(1) Brought up in an outdated religion.
(2) Meadow.
(3) Greek sea god capable of taking many shapes.
(4) Another sea god, often depicted as trumpeting on a shell.
SONNET 18 PARAPHRASE
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Shall I compare you to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate: You are more lovely and more constant:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, Rough winds shake the beloved buds of May
And summer's lease hath all too short a date: And summer is far too short:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, At times the sun is too hot,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; Or often goes behind the clouds;
And every fair from fair sometime declines, And everything beautiful sometime will lose its beauty,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; By misfortune or by nature's planned out course.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade But your youth shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; Nor will you lose the beauty that you possess;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, Nor will death claim you for his own,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest: Because in my eternal verse you will live forever.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long as there are people on this earth,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee. So long will this poem live on, making you immortal.