William Wordsworth
Lines Written in Early Spring (1798)

 

I heard a thousand blended notes,

 

While in a grove I sate reclined,

 

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

4

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

8

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

12

Enjoys the air it breathes.

   
 

The birds around me hopped and played,

 

Their thoughts I cannot measure:—

 

But the least motion which they made

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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,

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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

24

What man has made of man?