Lines Written in Early Spring
I heard a thousand blended notes,While in a grove I sate reclined,In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughtsBring sad thoughts to the mind.
To her fair works did Nature linkThe human soul that through me ran;And much it grieved my heart to thinkWhat man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;And 'tis my faith that every flowerEnjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,Their thoughts I cannot measure:--But the least motion which they madeIt 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 lamentWhat man has made of man?
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