I heard a thousand blended notes, while in a grove I sat reclined.
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 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 which they made it seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their an to catch the breezy air,
And I must think, do all I can, that there was pleasure there.
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?
Photographs 2018 Wordsworth poem from my mother's journal. She used to copy down poems all the time.....
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