Lines and Images

Lines

written in early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in the grove I sat reclin'd

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 sweet bower,

The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;

And 'tis my faith that every flower

Enjoyes the air it breathes

The birds around me hopped and play'd

Their thoughts I cannot measure: -

But the least motion which they made,

It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding tiwgs spread out their fan,

To catch the breezy air;

And I must think, do all I can,

That there was pleasure there.

If I these thoughts may not prevent,

If such be of my creed the plan,

Have I not reason to lament

What man has made of man?

The Lines are by William Wordsworth and the images are photographs by me, taken today.