Lines Written In Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sat 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 it's wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breaths.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:
But the least motion that 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 by Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man.

-William Wordsworth
1770-1850