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?

Отправить