DROPS FROM FLORA’S CUP. 113 
LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. 
WORDSWORTH. 
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 sweet bower, 
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; 
And’t is 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. 
If this belief from heaven is sent, 
If such be nature’s holy plan, 
Have I not reason to lament 
What man has made of man ? 
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