The World Is Too Much with Us

I have had the first 2 lines of this poem rattling around in my head for the better part of 15 years. I remember it from Grade 11 English class, and whenever I am feeling overwhelmed or desperate; whenever I feel like the World is too much for me, or embarassed or disgusted about the state of mankind, it will often serve to calm and centre me. This is one of those days. But I could never remember the rest of the poem, so I finally looked it up:

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 wreathed horn.

-William Wordsworth