I HEARD a thousand blended notes, <br />While in a grove I sate reclined, <br />In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts <br />Bring sad thoughts to the mind. <br /> <br />To her fair works did Nature link <br />The human soul that through me ran; <br />And much it grieved my heart to think <br />What man has made of man. <br /> <br />Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, <br />The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; <br />And 'tis my faith that every flower <br />Enjoys the air it breathes. <br /> <br />The birds around me hopped and played, <br />Their thoughts I cannot measure:-- <br />But the least motion which they made, <br />It seemed a thrill of pleasure. <br /> <br />The budding twigs spread out their fan, <br />To catch the breezy air; <br />And I must think, do all I can, <br />That there was pleasure there. <br /> <br />If this belief from heaven be sent, <br />If such be Nature's holy plan, <br />Have I not reason to lament <br />What man has made of man?<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-written-in-early-spring-2/
