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.