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Have you ever found yourself down a dirt path thinking: gosh, someone must write a poem or a song about this place?
A few autumns ago I took a walk in Port Tobacco, Maryland and had one of those moments. It took me all this time to meet the poet whose words feel like they belong along this bank.
This painting, Walking With Wordsworth, is a soft and solitary moment, where poetry, birdsong and the beauty of nature, have a moment together; a moment I’m so grateful to have been a witness to.
“The World is Too Much With Us”
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 wreathèd horn.
-William Wordsworth