Verse > Anthologies > Francis T. Palgrave, ed. > The Golden Treasury
Francis T. Palgrave, ed. (1824–1897). The Golden Treasury.  1875.
W. Wordsworth
CCLXXII. 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         5
  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 sweet bower, 
  The periwinkle trail'd its wreaths;  10
And 'tis my faith that every flower 
  Enjoys the air it breathes. 
The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, 
  Their thoughts I cannot measure, 
But the least motion which they made  15
  It seem'd 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.  20
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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