William Wordsworth

Lines Written in Early Spring

I HEARD a thousand blended notes,
         While in a grove I sate reclined,
         In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
         Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
 
         To her fair works did Nature link
         The human soul that through me ran;
         And much it grieved my heart to think
         What man has made of man.
 
         Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
         The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
         And 'tis my faith that every flower
         Enjoys the air it breathes.
 
         The birds around me hopped and played,
         Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
         But the least motion which they made
         It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
 
         The budding twigs spread out their fan,
         To catch the breezy air;
         And I must think, do all I can,
         That there was pleasure there.
 
         If this belief from heaven be sent,
         If such be Nature’s holy plan,
         Have I not reason to lament
         What man has made of man?
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