by William Wordsworth
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
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
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 fan,
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?
~
I love this poem and its sentiments, though it is nothing like Spring here. Still deep in the throes of winter, it seems. But I can imagine. I do wish Wordsworth had not ended on the dismal note though. I love the line, "I heard a thousand blended notes."
~Ally
1 comment:
This is a beautiful poem - thanks for bringing it to us. The last line seems right, as it echoes the implied question at the end of 2nd stanza. And doesn't it seem still current, given what's happening in Japan? Good for you for remembering old Wordsworth. It's almost time to dust off his "Daffodils" poem - spring is coming! XO, Mom
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