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 ’ its 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?

 April 1798 by  William Wordsworth

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