Poetry Sunday: Lines Written in Early Spring
The changing of the seasons is another occasion for us to reflect upon the meaning of Nature and the place of humans in it. And while we glory in the beauties of early spring, it is also rather appalling to see "what man had made of made." That was obvious even long ago to William Wordsworth. The more things change, the more they remain the same.
Lines Written in Early Spring
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?