[Wordsworth has been one of my favorite poets… Aren’t his words beautiful?]
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thought 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 they made,
It seems 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.
In this belief from be sent,
In such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
– William Wordsworth