Lines Written in Early Spring

By 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?