Page 6 - Spring Newsletter 2024
P. 6

Lines Written in Early Spring
                                              William Wordsworth

                                          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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