The world is too much with us; the gloom
Reported on bbc of record showers,
Earthquakes following hurricanes; Our
Society points to running taps, loom
Through darkness under light of moon:
How Proteus would correct these efforts,
But he eludes and so their
Animals are caught, boon
For a Big Mac, a chicken curry
Or rack of ribs torn
Flesh from a bone that, saved, would breathe
Life back into a still born
World; reports continue and impending fear
Has not aroused the old man or even Triton’s wreathèd horn.