BIRDS mV NftTURE. 



ILLUSTRATED BY COLOR PHOTOGRAPHY. 



Vol. XV. MAY, 1904. No. 5 



LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. 



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. 



Though 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 lean. 



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? 



— William Wordsworth. 



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