the exquisite lines by Wordsworth in " Early 

 Spring," when, feeling nature linking his hu- 

 man soul to her fair works, he wrote 



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 budding twigs spread out their fan 



To catch the breezy air; 

 And I must think, do all I can, 



That there was pleasure there. 



That the plants are conscious, that they are 

 capable of "pleasure," enjoying the air they 

 breathe, that is the poet's belief; not a pretty 

 fancy, but his serious belief, for in these lines 

 we have the essence of Wordsworth's nature. 

 Is it possible, then, not only that man may be 

 the friend of the flowers, but that the flowers 

 may be friends to him? 



Does Longfellow touch reality when he says 



In all places, then, and in all seasons, 



Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, 



Teaching us by most persuasive reasons 

 How akin they are to human things? 



[53] 



