Lines Written in Early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes,While in a grove I sate reclined,In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughtsBring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature linkThe human soul that through me ran;And much it grieved my heart to thinkWhat man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;And 'tis my faith that every flowerEnjoys 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 I these thoughts may not prevent,If such be of my creed the plan,Have I not reason to lamentWhat man has made of man?