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I HEARD 1 a thousand blended notes, | |
While in a grove I sate reclined, | |
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts | |
Bring sad thoughts to the mind. | |
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To her fair works did Nature link | 5 |
The human soul that through me ran; | |
And much it grieved my heart to think | |
What man has made of man. | |
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Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, | |
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; | |
And tis my faith that every flower | |
Enjoys the air it breathes. | |
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The birds around me hopped and played, | |
Their thoughts I cannot measure: | 15 |
But the least motion which they made, | |
It seemed a thrill of pleasure. | |
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The budding twigs spread out their fan, | |
To catch the breezy air; | |
And I must think, do all I can, | 20 |
That there was pleasure there. | |
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If this belief from heaven be sent, | |
If such be Natures holy plan, | |
Have I not reason to lament | |
What man has made of man? | 25 |