The World is _____haunting_____ and too much with us.
I've enjoyed the poetry presentations over the last few days. That's a statement I didn't think I'd say. Somehow, the stakes for this presentation didn't feel as high as others if I failed because I was helping to teach the material, and didn't feel as though I had to know every detail about my topic. I loved all of the poems, even with the varying levels of obscurity and complexity they all brought. One poem, it seems, has been haunting me for a few semesters, and I haven't found out why yet. William Wordsworth's "The World is Too Much With Us" is a poem that I've studied, in various classes and in passing, and each time I run into it, there seems to be more meaning. It's intriguing to me because I personally don't find much satisfaction in reading any other poems from Wordsworth. I don't typically enjoy sonnets, I think because of the rigid structure, in the first place. The first time that I read this poem, over a year a
